Her Negotiation
by ZombieJazz
Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. Story 9 of series.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Olivia walked up the steps to the townhouse and juggled her brown paper-bag from one arm to the other to fish her keys out of her purse. She'd stopped on the way home to pick up some things to make Will and Noah a nice breakfast in the morning since Cragen had banned her from coming in for the next few days.

She'd been calling Will since she left the squad. She'd touched base with him earlier in the afternoon - telling him she'd be late just via text. He'd responded with his usual, "Things OK?" And, she'd just responded with her usual, "Just a case. Home ASAP."

She likely shouldn't have stayed as late as she did. She'd been staying late all week with this Lewis case. It was eating at her - and she had wanted to see it through to the end of the day to hear what the judge decided about the court case. It'd been nearly five by the time they did heard back - and what they heard hadn't made her happy. The DNA evidence was inadmissible. The case was being thrown out - a mistrial declared - and it likely wouldn't end up back before the courts. Not with their evidence - or lack there-of. Worse Lewis was already out on bail.

There'd been some strong words. No one had been happy. But the others had filtered out quickly at that point - drinks, homes, dates. That was her usual M.O. anymore too - get out of there as quickly as the workday finished. They'd all settled into that their own way anymore. She thought a lot of it had to do with Elliot's sudden retirement or maybe more so with what had happened with Cragen a year ago and everything else that had come in that fall out. But she didn't think the squad trying to have more of a life - not just living for the job - was a bad thing.

But Olivia hadn't been ready to leave that night. Nick had noticed. He'd asked if she was OK. She wasn't - not really. He'd asked if she wanted him to stay - if she wanted to talk about. She hadn't. She wanted to be alone. For a while. He'd let her - and left. And, she'd just sat there at her desk for a while. Not re-examining the case file. Not working on another. Not even pretending to look or do anything. She'd just sat there. She felt so deflated and defeated. She was saddened, confused, angered about how much the system had failed so repeatedly for this monster - about all the carnage it'd allowed to be left in his wake.

She dealt with these cases everyday. She'd seen more and more the problems with the system. She'd had previous frustrations. She'd had some of them grow. But there was something different about this. About how she was reacting to it - how she was coping with it. The obsession, as Lewis had called it, that had set in. Something about it all was eating at her more than other cases. Something about it hit home more. Maybe it was the rape and torture of a 60-something woman. The fact she'd tried to be so strong only to die days later. Maybe it was how this guy - this beast - thought he could get away with anything and everything - and so far he had. She needed some alone time before she went home to her husband and son.

When she'd finally managed to stand from her desk and make herself leave the precinct she'd again texted him. "Leaving now. Be home soon." She hadn't heard back from him. That was a little odd for Will but she'd realized it was Thursday. They were likely at the pool. Noah had training with his competitive swim club on Thursday night.

So she's just left it - actually feeling bad she wasn't there watching and offering her support. Instead, she'd tried to reach him again while she was picking up the groceries. "At the store. Anything you want or we need?" Still nothing, though. She'd glanced at her watch. Unless the training was running late - they should've left the pool at that point. Will should be home getting Noah ready for bed. But she supposed he might've got caught chatting to someone at the pool. The coach had been trying to court Will for ages to either get involved with coaching or as a volunteer. She wouldn't get into some of the mothers there who liked to talk-up Will if he was watching practice. But she knew that the one posse was trying to convince him to get involved with the planning of a meet - apparently he'd be a much more helpful and better representative for their family than her. She supposed maybe there was something to that. Will's schedule was more predictable. But she also didn't think that was why the woman had approached him and not her. Still, the real reason he likely wasn't answering his phone was because he was just engaged with something else with Noah. So she'd just collected some food, stood behind three other people doing the same thing in line, paid and then finished her walk home.

When she managed to get the door open and was surprised to find the foyer darken and couldn't see any light or sound radiating from the television in the living room.

"Guys … I'm home …," Olivia called out and there wasn't any response.

She shook her head. She wondered if maybe Ted and May had come into the city for the evening and to watch Noah swim. That would put off any bedtime and likely keep Will from returning her texts. Though, when they randomly appeared without notice - he usually gave her notice of their sudden arrival to prepare her for that barrage when she walked in the door.

She set the grocery bag down on the entrance bench that her in-laws had given them at their wedding and braced herself against the wall slightly as she shifted her weight to take off her boots. She eyes fell to the floor and their boot rack as she did so and she again paused. Will's sneakers were sitting there though Noah's weren't. Weird that his were there. Though, he might've been on auto-pilot when leaving the house and just put on his work shoes. Or maybe they'd gone directly from work? She would've thought he'd mentioned in their exchange earlier in the afternoon that he was held up at work and getting Noah to swim team would be tight. He hadn't, though. It'd just been their usual short exchange - not a parenting or family exchange.

"Guys?" she called again and still got no response.

She sighed. She'd have to talk to Will about keeping Noah out this late on a school night. The mini fin kids weren't supposed to be kept late - and Will shouldn't be turning on the McTeague charm in his conversations with others at the pool on a weeknight and getting them held up anymore. They'd all be paying for that. At that rate, even if they walked in the door that instant they weren't likely to have Noah down for the night until almost 10 p.m. Way too late.

She picked up the bag and walked over to the kitchen, placing the bag on the counter. She glanced at the serving window's sill as she pulled the eggs out of the bag. Will's phone was sitting there. Olivia picked it up and looked at it. Her texts were sitting there unread.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. That explained the lack of response. He'd forgotten his phone. Sometimes he could be such an absent-minded professor. It still didn't explain why he had their son out so late, though. Or why he hadn't texted her before they'd left. She nearly always had a running commentary and timeline on her husband and son's movements when she wasn't with them. But that had stopped with their exchange around 4 p.m. She hadn't heard that he was leaving campus, that he was picking up Noah from the after-school program, what they were eating for dinner or that they were headed for the pool. But she'd been so lost in her own thoughts about Lewis and the case, she hadn't noticed until he didn't reply to her texts.

Olivia looked into the sink and paused again. The sink was half full with their dishes from dinner sitting in them. Will's ritual of 'rinsing' - aka why are you even bothering to put them into the dishwasher after that? - the dishes. But the dishes hadn't made it from the sink to the dishwasher. It didn't even look like he'd finished filling the sink - nor squirted the dish soap in. It was strange - unless they'd been running late and he just wanted to start them soaking. She dipped her fingertips in the water. It was barely even lukewarm.

She heard a creak above her from their bedroom and her eyes tracked to the ceiling examining it and waiting for another sound. The water in the bathroom. Will's voice reading Noah a story. His feet pounding against the treadmill. Nothing came.

"Hello?" she called out.

She thought about it for a moment and then headed for the stairs - looking up them briefly again for a sign of light or more sounds coming from the room. It was likely nothing. She was probably just hearing things. It was an old building. There were always little creaks and groans in it. She usually didn't heed them much attention. But still she started to mount the stairs.

She smiled a little as she realized she might get to the top of the stairs and find Will and Noah passed out asleep in bed. They likely fell asleep while Will read him a chapter from the novel that night. Noah usually spooled down fairly quickly after his swimming and training. He loved it. But it exhausted him. And, Will could sleep through anything. He wouldn't have even stirred with her coming into the house and calling for them. She'd known he'd been having a busy week at work too. She didn't know all the details. She hadn't been home enough for nearly two weeks now - even missing out on parts of their weekends - as she threw herself head-first into the Lewis case. They hadn't had much of a chance to talk. But her husband was likely exhausted too from juggling work and managing their home and son almost exclusively on his own. She'd have to work on making that up to him with the next few days off. Make sure he knew she appreciated it.

She squinted a little as she got to the top of the stairs. It was so dark on there too. The bedside light wasn't on to accompany their reading and even the blinds had already been closed for the night. The light from the streetlights outside was barely even streaming in through the cracks. Olivia squinted more at the bed as she stepped onto their bedroom floor - trying to spot the bodies of her two boys passed out under their covers. Noah likely sprawled in all directions while Will snoozed with the novel resting against his chest. But it really didn't even look like the bed was occupied. It looked like the covers may be skewed and bunched but the bumps and lumps she could make out didn't look large enough to be bodies.

She stepped to the left - preparing to go and see, to switch on one of the bedside lights. But it was movement to her right that flicked in the corner of her eye. That pit she'd felt eating in the pit of her stomach suddenly turned into fire ants screaming up her back and shoulders - down the backs of her arms and prickling each hair on the back of her neck. Her neck snapped around and her eyes widened. Her mouth was about to gape but not before the muzzle of a gun pressed into her jugular.

"Welcome home, Detective Benson," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"Theodore! Theodore!" May called down across the house from sitting with their laptop at the kitchen table. "Ted! I think the email is broken."

Her husband grumbled as he came into the kitchen from reading the paper in the living room and huffed at her. "Well, did you connect the damn thing to the wireless network thing," he said and leaned over her shoulder, swatting her hands away and looking at the screen. "What do you mean it's not working?" he asked as he hit the refresh button and a new email popped into the inbox. "There. It's working. Piece of junk mail for you to read. Worse than our mailbox here."

May sighed. "William's note isn't here," she said and took her turn to swish his hands away and scrolled through all the unopened spam in their inbox that neither of them were too proficient at deleting. "Where's that junk mail folder that Wendice showed us? Maybe it went in there."

Ted sighed again. "I don't know. You'll have to wait to morning and get the kid over here to fix it. Maybe Will just didn't send a note today, May."

"William always sends me an email with a picture of my grandson," she said quietly and started clicking through the spam messages, looking at each like maybe the subject line had been wrong and it really was from her son.

"Well, it's the middle of the night, May. So if there's not one there – the boy was clearly busy," Ted spat back at her, clearly with a tone that he was annoyed with her and having disturbed his evening routine if reading the already dated news in the so-called newspaper.

"I want to see my grandson," May said more firmly and cast her husband a look.

Ted waved absently at the computer screen. "Look at some of the other pictures you have of him."

May sighed and looked sadly back at the screen. It was so hard having her son and his wife and her grandchild off in the city. It was such a different experience than with her other boys and grandchildren. She got to see them as much as she wanted. Sometimes far more than she wanted. With her youngest – son and grandson – she was lucky if she got to see them once a week and even that had taken a careful negotiation to achieve and it didn't always happen. Sometimes Will and Olivia claimed they were too busy or that they just didn't need the help. That they had this to do or that to do. They generally made her feel like her and Ted's help was more of a hindrance than help at times. That she expected too much from them when they just wanted to be left to live their lives and raise their child and manage their careers and family on their own accord. That they didn't need help from their prying parents.

"I've been calling him," May added and turned to face her husband. "He hasn't been returning my calls."

It'd been one of the weeks where Will had told her not to come into the city for their usual Wednesday visit. He said he was burdened with work and that Olivia was working on a case that had her out at all hours. That he was having to truck Noah off to his activities and school and appointments on his own. To May it had sounded like exactly the kind of week that they all needed her and Ted to go into the city for them. To pick up some groceries or to leave some prepared meals. To put a load of laundry through or to take the vacuum around or dust some of the living spaces. To pick up their grandson from school and to go watch him practice baseball so that Will wasn't having to run across creation in a tizzy. But Will had said it'd just be too much to have them there. May never really understood when he or Olivia said that. Too much what? They were supposed to be helping not making it harder for them. So the weekly trip was cancelled and now it seemed like her son was ignoring her in the fallout.

"May, just leave the boy alone. He's busy. He told you that," Ted told her more directly.

"It's not like him," she muttered. "Do you think something is going on with him and Olivia?"

Ted glared at her at that and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "May. Do. Not. Go. Prying. Into. Their. Marriage. That will really push them away. Olivia is busy with her work. You know how that is."

"You always came home," she sighed.

"She's a police officer, May. Sometimes cases are going to keep her out of the house."

"That has got to be hard on Will – and my grandson."

Ted looked at her more sternly. "We both know that Olivia's sun rises and sets on that boy, so don't you start making it sound like otherwise. And Will knows how to navigate her and she knows how to navigate him. The boy knew full well what he was getting into. So just keep your nose out of it. The case will be closed or put on the backburner. She'll be home and they'll be fine. It's almost summer. Willie's workload will be lighter. Olivia will take some time off and they will sort themselves out on their own."

"Maybe I should try calling again?" May suggested and stood from the table, heading for the cordless phone. But Ted stepped ahead of her and snatched it up, holding it out of her reach.

"May," he near raised his voice at her that time. "Leave them be."

"I'll just leave a message," she said. "I'll let William know that I'm not upset that he didn't want us to come over yesterday." Ted gave her a look like he didn't believe that. "Maybe we could swing by tomorrow?" she suggested at that. "We could take them over dinner and just make sure they got through their week OK?"

"They get take-out on Friday," Ted put to her simply – like that would stop her.

May made a face. She hated take-out and she especially hated the kind of take-out that William and his wife ordered sometimes when they were over rather than cooking. It was supposed to be some sort of special treat. But eating Indian food or Thai noodles and foods she'd never seen before in dishes she couldn't even pronounce wasn't much of a treat to her.

"We could take them take-out," she said with a touch of disgust to appease her husband. Hoping that it was a compromise he'd accept.

Ted clearly didn't accept that answer either though – not from the look on his face. She brushed at her own elbow and thought about it for a moment.

"It's almost Noah's birthday and Olivia still hasn't told me what she wants us to do for the party," she offered like that would make a good reason to continue to call her son's phone. "I can call her …"

"Leave Olivia alone too, May," Ted shot at her. "She doesn't even like Willie calling her at work. You know that."

"But we need to know what to bring to Noah's party," May sighed at him.

"They don't want us to bring anything to Noey's party," Ted said. "They don't want to bring anything to Noey's party. That's why they're doing it at … that place …" Ted waved his hand like he was about as disgusted as her that they'd rented a party room at the Lego store to hold the party rather than host it in their own home or taken their offer to have it in theirs. Apparently no parents would bring their children over to Staten Island. May thought that was ridiculous since William was always stressing to her that they were just in Manhattan and they were just on Staten Island and it wasn't that far. Apparently the majority of the population felt it was just as far as her.

"Then we can ask what Noey wants for his birthday," May suggested.

"Lego, May. The boy wants Lego," Ted said clearly getting flabbergasted and exhausted with her.

She sighed. "We could ask what Lego?"

"And that's reason to be calling them at 10 p.m. on a school night when there's still more than a week until Noey's birthday?" he put back to her.

May eyed him – and the phone in his hand. "It's so out of character for Will to not call or send me my picture …" she mumbled.

Her husband gave her softer eyes at that and a thin smile. "They're just busy, May. Try to remember what it's like to have a boy that age. They both have demanding jobs. Give it a couple weeks and this will all be water under the bridge. You'll be getting your calls and your pictures again."

"I think something is wrong … he's upset with me or there's something going on with him and Olivia … or with Noah," she said with almost a crack in her voice. "Something is going on and he's not telling us. Something's off, Ted."

"They're fine, May," he assured her. "If they're up to it, they'll come out here on Sunday. Just like always. They'll call us."


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Her mind reeled as Lewis yanked on her hair and pulled her further into her bedroom. She knew too starkly the possibilities – the outcomes – that lay before her. She'd just spent the past two weeks living the case. She knew what he was capable of. But for the moment she wasn't concerned about her. She wanted to know where her husband and son were. She still was praying that they were out somewhere and hadn't been home. But she also knew she was fooling herself to even be wishing that.

"Lewis … we can work this out," she sputtered and he harshly pushed her towards her dresser. Her eyes were still adjusting to the dark of the room – and the force of his hand caused her to stumble into it. She was trying to glance around the room. Desperately trying to seek out clues to Will and Noah's whereabouts – to what he may have done to them, or with them. She prayed he hadn't had time to do anything. Not the way he liked to do things anyways. She knew Lewis took it slow. He made the torture drag out for hours and days. She'd have time to get them out of it. She just had to tap into her training. To keep a level head. She could navigate this. He wouldn't have hurt them yet. He wouldn't have killed them yet. But even the thought of that made her eyes blur more and her thoughts become more scattered.

Lewis was amused by her comment. That sly smirk – that look that nothing could touch him – played across his face. That toothy grin that on some other man might almost come off as charming. On him barely thinly veiled the monster that was dancing underneath.

"Work it out? What's there to work out, Detective Benson?"

"Look Lewis, you don't want to do this," she said, putting her hands up in near surrender. His gun was still pointed at her. "I'm a cop. But if we just stop now – we can work something out."

He laughed at her. "Stop? We're just getting started, sweetheart."

She knew what that meant. He'd gone into vivid hypothetical detail with her about what 'just getting started' meant to him. How his victims were 'lucky' that someone did that to them – tortured them, raped them, humiliated them, destroyed them, killed them. How she should be just as lucky to experience what he'd put them through. How disturbing it would be to make a fine, educated woman to disrobe. How humiliating it would be to be tied to the bed – just tight enough that he could still watch her struggle. How she'd like to go down on her knees and have him forced inside her. Or that maybe what she'd really like best would be when he pulled out the pyrotechnics and branded her with her own keys, hangers – her breasts, her genitals. How he'd butt out his cigarettes on her. How'd she'd do things that she never thought she would've. Things she wouldn't have dreamed she could – she would have to do – with her mouth and fingers.

Her skirted by her – moving towards their bathroom, the gun still pointed at her head and her eyes followed him, her hands still held up. Her mind churning. There was a door in their bathroom. Their alternate exit. Did he know that yet? Was it how he got in? Was it an indication he was going to leave them alone? Or was it an option that she could use to get out of there on her own? Maybe she didn't want him going down to the bathroom. Maybe that was where she wanted to position herself.

But her continued assessment of the situation shifted as the gun lowered from where it was aimed and dropped towards the floor. Not in surrender but at another small huddled mass. Her heart skipped a beat and she thought her breathing might've caught so long that it stopped entirely. Her son was huddled in the corner just outside the bathroom door – his mouth covered in duct tape and his arms behind his bad. Even through the dark she could see the glean of his tear-streaked face and glass, sad, terrified eyes. Lewis had him stripped down to his underwear – though Olivia was again almost falsely hoping that maybe he'd taken her son hostage while he was in the midst of getting ready for bed, that it hadn't been undressed by this stranger, this monster.

"It's going to be alright," she tried to say firmly but even she heard it come out as a cracked whisper. "I'm here now. It's going to be alright."

But she already knew it wasn't alright. Even if she somehow managed to get them out of this without further scathing, the damage had already been done. This was something that her son would always remember. It would be something that would haunt him. It was something she was supposed to have protected him from. The darkness of her work wasn't supposed to come into her home. But now it wasn't just occupying it – it'd taken up official residence. Following them, stalking them and now holding them hostage in a way that she knew would follow them for the rest of their lives.

Lewis stooped and roughly grabbed Noah under the arm, jerking him to his feet. Her son made a sound in pain that Olivia felt scream through her own being. The gun now directed at her little boy's chest. Lewis knew he didn't need to point it at her anymore. He had her son. She wasn't going anywhere. She wasn't going to try anything. He had her caught.

"You're scaring him," she near whimpered. It hadn't come out the way she wanted – not in words, sound or tone.

Lewis just snorted at her and seemed to jam the gun even more forcibly into her son. "He should be scared? Shouldn't he?"

Olivia tried to keep the in the tears that were threatening to spill. She'd never forgive herself if something happened to Noah. She wasn't going to forgive herself as it was. Not for this. Her son had already been through too much in his short life. He didn't need to carry this as well.

"Lewis … let him go," she pleaded. "I'll do whatever you want. But my son doesn't need to be here."

He smirked at her more and raised the gun to press into her son's neck, under his chin. Olivia could see the shocked terror settle into him more.

"At the beginning they always beg for their life," he said and looked down at Noah contemplating him with an intensity that made Olivia want to rip his eyes out. If it wasn't for the run – if it was just her – she didn't think she'd still be standing there. She would be tearing his face off. "Do remember what they do by morning?"

She remembered. Begging to die. Begging to be taken out of their misery. That's what he'd said – and he'd asked her which one she thought he liked hearing out of his mouth more? She already knew the answer.

"He looks pretty miserable," he said and looked back at her, drilling that whimsically sadistic stare into her. "Maybe I should just take him out of his misery now."

Her breath caught again. "He's just a little boy …" she started in her continued pleas.

"Mmm," Lewis interrupted her and again traced the gun around her son's face, neck and chest. "He is rather little isn't he," he put to her and gave her a knowing look. "Thin skin. Kids. Boys. Dick. It's not usually my thing. But this skin. He'd bleed."

"Lewis …" she grasped, again holding up her hands in an effort to reason with him. Anything. She'd do anything to get her child out of the situation they were in now. Anything.

"What's wrong with him?" he spat at her before she could get any further. Olivia sputtered. She wasn't sure how to answer. "Oh, something's wrong with him," Lewis said and looked at Noah again. He whimpered in the monster's grip. "I've been looking at him. You know … what I do with the cigarettes … I thought wouldn't it be fascinating to just … watch that on skin like this …" he pressed the gun into the child again.

"But you know what I realized while I've been sitting her looking at him?" he asked and moved the gun yet again, this time tracing over the scar left from Noah's long removed port, the holes drilled into his hip from his surgery, and then looping around his back and pressing into his spine where some of the pricks of his lumbar punctures were still microscopically visible. "He's already branded."

She gaped at him and processed how to respond to that. But his eyes were just laughing at her – laughing at her trying to navigate this nightmare, laughing at the terror that at settled into her son. The shock that was clearly overtaking his body and could potentially be just as dangerous as anything Lewis had planned.

"He had cancer, Lewis," she finally managed. "Leukemia. Please. He's been through enough. I'll stay. I'll do whatever you want.

"Do whatever I want?" Lewis smirked. "Oh, now, Detective Benson, where is the fun in that?"

"Just … please, let my son go. Don't hurt him."

"Your son? You mean Noah," he said, speaking the child's name for the first time. She'd purposely been avoiding saying it. Trying to keep the power of knowing her child's first name from him. But he saw that he'd bested her. He gestured momentarily with the gun to the dresser she was meaning against. "You really shouldn't leave things laying around, Olivia."

She glanced behind her and saw the handmade marker-drawn Mother's Day card that she'd received from her son little more than a week before. In the midst of all of this case – when she hadn't been spending enough time at home for her husband and son to even take her out for brunch or family time that day. But she'd received the card. "You are my super hero Mom. Happy Mother's Day. Love, Noah" had been scribbled messily inside while he'd meticulously drawn a Superman crest on the front and what she assumed was the cityscape of their hometown across the bottom of the inside. She'd kept it – she always kept his cards, his drawings, his little notes. Memories of her little boy. That one hadn't been filed away yet – into the memory box she was creating for him … and herself. She wasn't sure when it would be. She liked looking at in the mornings while she dressed for the moment. It made her smile. But she didn't feel like much of a super hero at the moment. She wasn't sure she ever would be her son's super hero again after this.

"You know, I never would've pegged you as a mother, a wife," Lewis said with that wide grin again. "You just didn't seem the type. But I think I like it … a lot …". He stroked the gun down Noah's cheek again. "What do ya say, Noah? Should we see just how much Mommy loves you?"

She held up her hand again and took a step towards them but the firearm suddenly pulled away from her son at that movement and pointed at her. Somehow she liked it pointed in her direction better. She'd gladly take another bullet if it meant that he'd leave her child alone.

"He knows I love him," she offered with the first firmness she'd felt since she'd seen her son had been taken hostage. "He knows I'd do anything for him. I have – and I will. Just let him go, Lewis."

He laughed again. "Begging already – and we haven't even done anything yet," he said. But the gun still remained away from her son as he contemplated her.

She knew he was now staging his next move. Maybe he hadn't plotted this out as clearly as he thought. He clearly didn't know that she'd been married. That she had a husband and child. He didn't know that he'd have company – multiple players in his evening. Not that had stopped him before with previous victims. But those had been women. Will was a man. Noah was a boy. His usual M.O. had been somewhat jarred. He was slightly off-kilter. He was off his game. Or so she hoped. She knew that he could hold her husband and son against her. But maybe she could hold those unplanned variables against him too.

"Where's my husband, Lewis?" she put to him, a little more sternly. She was trying to regain her footing. Trying to take control of the situation that she'd lost control of. She needed to find something to grip onto. Someway to navigate this maze. Someway to get them out of it all alive.

"Oh, you mean Will?" he teased and then that smirk spread again. "It's the name isn't it? Why you're obsessed with me? Why you've been out to get me from the start." He just smiled at her. "Don't worry. He's around. We wouldn't want him to miss out on the fun."


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"William McTeague. Professor. New York University," Lewis read and tossed her husband's staff card onto the ground. He'd let Noah go and had moved to leaning against their dresser. She was grateful he wasn't near her son anymore - but the gun was still in his hand and she suspected the safety wasn't on as he continued to move it around while riffling through Will's wallet.

She was standing in the center of the room, left where he'd positioned her – so she couldn't make any quick movement to much of anywhere without him having time to react. She wasn't sure she wanted to move. If Noah wasn't there, she might. But she didn't want to risk a gun going off with her son in the room. That a bullet might hit him. Or that he'd witness his mother shot. The latter was likely the better of the options, though. If he didn't witness her shot, he was likely going to have to witness atrocities far worse. Things she didn't want scarred into his mind for a lifetime.

"William McTeague. Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Alumni," Lewis read again and tossed another card to the ground. "William McTeague. Harvard University. Alumni." And another card clattered onto the floor. "A sophisticated man for a cultured woman?" he quipped at her, his eyes finally falling on her with that teasing stare.

She knew he had something against what he perceived as 'cultured' women. She didn't know she fit that label. She didn't know that Will fit the definition of a sophisticated man either. Educated but not sophisticated. Maybe she'd been raised cultured but she certainly wasn't practicing. They were just a regular, mundane, boring family. If they lived in suburbia they might has well have had white picket fence, a dog, two-point-five kids, soccer practice and a Volvo. They were just them. Normal. But Lewis had already decided they both fit his labels. There wasn't any point in arguing semantics with him.

"Where's my husband, Lewis?" she tried again. She had been asking but trying not to beg to be told his whereabouts. She was starting to fear that he was already gone. That she hadn't gotten home in time to save him and now she wasn't sure she was going to be able to save herself and Noah either.

"Will," Lewis said again and then smiled broadly at her. "Com'on. You can call him by his name. W-i-l-l," he said more slowly and purposely. "Is that what you cry out when he fucks you?" Olivia didn't answer but even the mention of it – what he was alluding to, what they both knew too well was inevitable if she didn't figure a way out of this mess – made her shutter inside. But then Lewis just shrugged and his smile grew bigger. "I guess we'll find out, won't be? Sophisticated women don't really fuck do they? We're going to have to change that." He grinned even more, his teeth like shiny white pebbles. The fangs you'd expect to see glowing in the jaw of a wild animal.

"Lewis, look," she tried again, "my husband, his family – they're prominent people in the city …"

He cut her off. "Oh really?" he asked but sounded completely uninterested. He held up a photo of her, Will and Noah instead. One that Will kept buried in his wallet – not just on his phone. They were all looking at each other – or really more she and Noah were smiling up at Will while he gazed into her eyes – like they thought their worlds began and ended with each family member. Because really in so many ways they did. "This is nice," he said and shoved it into his pant's back pocket rather than tossing it to the ground.

"You aren't just assaulting a police officer Lewis …" she tried again.

"Oh com'on now. We both know I'm going to be doing a little more than assaulting you," he smiled and looked back to the wallet.

"His family. Their connections. The entire city is going to come down on you. This is the end of the line," she pushed harder, ignoring his comment. Trying to get him to see reason. He thrived on not getting caught. He'd made a career out of it. But he was going to get caught this time. He wasn't going to be able to find a loophole out of this. He shouldn't be so stupid. It wasn't part of his M.O. But she couldn't see him as making this is swan song either.

"Mmm," he said with a dismissive sound. He pulled a prayer card out of the wallet and examined it. "Oh, Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference," he intoned with false piety. Olivia didn't know why Will carried the card with him. It was written across his body already. But he apparently felt the need to have the additional reminder on his person. Maybe she needed the reminder that night. The courage, the wisdom. "Is Will a religious man?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers again.

She watched him. "He is," she allowed. She wasn't sure that was true. It wasn't true in the context that Lewis was likely asking or meaning. But their family had faith. Will had a spirituality. That combined had helped them through things before. She wasn't sure it would now, though.

"Do you pray Detective Benson?" he asked examining her with a seriousness, his eyes darkening.

She shook her head. "I don't."

That dismissive sound emanated from him again and the card got tossed to the floor. "Maybe we'll change that too," he said as he fell. "Sometimes prayer is almost as exciting as begging. They aren't that different."

"Lewis … where is my husband …?" she pressed again. She was already growing tired and she knew nothing – the worst of it – hadn't even started yet. But the fear she was feeling was wearing her down. She was trying to feel it and push through. It wasn't working, though. Not when it was about the safety of her husband and son.

"Maybe you shouldn't be so anxious for him to join us," Lewis spat at her, tossing the wallet back to the top of the dresser and now making across the room to her. She gasped as his hand again gripped at her bicep, squeezing it in a way that she knew would bruise and ramming the gun under her chin before repeating the same movements as he had with Noah – trialing it down her neck, between her breasts and then pressing it hard against his stomach. "Does Will like to watch?" his hot breath hissed into her ear.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Lewis' gun came back up her body and caught the neckline of her shirt, pulling it down tightly about as far as it could go without him ripping it off her. He shot her a look as he made the movement, exposing her upper chest and tops of the cups of her bra. His tongue came out and swept across his too straight teeth, still looking at her with those teasing-gotcha eyes and he looked down – examining the curve of her breasts and then sweeping again with the gun, wiggling it around until he got it between the soft material and her flesh and pulled the cup way from the one, still looking.

Olivia could feel her heart rate quickening to a point that it was pounding so loudly in her ears she wasn't sure she could hear much of anything anymore. The rapidness of it all was starting to make her feel lightheaded as she continued to try to push aside the fear and the anxiety and to just deal with the situation. But her chest was tightening and her breathing was starting to feel more labored. Only Will had touched her for years. Only Will – who'd earned it, who'd she built so much trust with, who she'd worked with for both of them to break down so many of their barriers. And, now she had a gun pressed to her left breast – it might as well have been her heart – while a monster near drooled over her. She'd let him do far more than that though, if it meant that her husband and son would be OK.

"I think it's time to get undressed," Lewis said, his eyes coming back up to her and raising an eyebrow.

"First, just tell me what you did to my husband and then … I'll do what you want," Olivia almost begged that time. She could hear Noah trying his best to cry silently off in the corner. She so badly wanted to call out to him – to offer him false assurances that it was going to be OK. But she didn't want to draw Lewis' attention to her little boy again. It was better to keep it directed on her no matter how terrifying that was.

He laughed at her. His gun dropping away from her chest as he threw both his arms back and puffed out his chest in a hearty guffaw. But it only lasted split seconds before the gun whapped against her temple and he pressed it there hard and got even more in her face – not even an inch away. She could smell his breath, feel his sneer and felt each spittle as he spat his annoyance at her. "First it's 'Don't hurt my son and I'll do anything you want'. Now it's 'Tell me where my husband is'. Which is it Detective Benson? Can't make up your mind? Will or Noah?"

Her mouth gaped as she tried to weigh that statement. She didn't want to make a decision. She wouldn't. She couldn't. She couldn't decide who's safety was more important. Who needed her protection more. Her heart broke even more as she realized that not making a decision was a decision unto itself. And likely one that would have just as dire consequences.

"Don't hurt my son …" she whispered.

Lewis nodded and smiled wider. "That's what I thought," he said and the gun dropped away. He waved it at her though before backing away carefully – the gun still pointed in her direction. "Now that we've got that sorted out. You, me and Will can have some fun."


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Lewis made his way over to the door to their little office, which despite containing a desk and filing cabinet was little more than a storage room with a treadmill and a stationary bike taking up the majority of the cramped space. Still, as the beast pushed the door open, Olivia finally caught a glimpse of her husband – or at least his socked feet sprawled on the floor. She couldn't tell if he was conscious, unconscious, alive or dead. But his feet weren't moving. His body was still.

Her heart skipped another beat, her chest tightened further and her mind churned again on how to deal with the situation. How she could process that loss if he was gone and what she would do now if he wasn't when she'd already told Lewis she'd protect her son over her husband. But what was she supposed to say. Noah was a child. Her flesh and blood. A little boy who'd already been through so much. He needed her protection. She'd do everything she could to protect him, to save him, to spare him – until death do them part. She might've made that same vow to Will. But he was an adult. Still, he was her love. Her best friend. Her husband. She couldn't imagine her life without him anymore. Yet he was being used as the sacrificial lamb. A pawn in Lewis' game. Him for Noah. She didn't know what her next move could be now.

Lewis glared at her and purposely perturbed the gun at her one more time before stepping inside the door. She watched the door as he disappeared from her sight and she knew she disappeared from his. She quickly glanced around the room – scooping out the stairs, the bathroom door with its alternate exit and where Noah was huddled. If she went fast she might be able to grab Noah, get into the bathroom, slam and lock that door and get out the side door before a bullet hit her. It was a risk and even if it worked it meant whatever state Will was in she'd be leaving him in Lewis' grasp. She knew that that choice meant he'd be dead. Lewis wouldn't let him live if she escaped. He'd know that his death would be torture for her. A different kind of torture than the kind he got off on but still likely enough to satisfy his sick need.

Still she found her body moving. An initial side step, a repositioning in getting ready to make the mad dash. But Lewis must've sensed it. Felt it. A creak in the floor, a presence in the corner of his eye. And, his head popped out of the room again – followed by the gun. "STAY," he ordered with a ferocity that she had known existed in him but she hadn't yet seen.

She stilled. Her plotted escape attempt fading - and seconds later Lewis emerged from the room. Will's slumped body was barely being held up with Lewis' one arm while he had their hard, antique wooden desk chair looped over his opposite wrist, his gun still bobbing through the hole in the back piece. Pointing at her and then the ground and then at her and then the ground as he near dragged Will into the bedroom.

Lewis forcibly clattered the chair onto the floor in front of her. It thumped with a loudness that if they weren't on the upper level maybe their neighbor in the lower apartment of the triplex might've heard it and at least momentarily looked to the ceiling and wondered what was going on upstairs. But they weren't in their living room and she doubted their elderly neighbors above them would hear a thing. Even when they occasionally talked to them on the front stoop or ran into them on a walk or a stop in the coffee shop down the street they had to speak in raised voices for their hearing aids to actually register the conversation anymore.

Lewis near tossed Will into the chair. Pushing him back and down. His bound wrists hitting against the wood and then almost becoming trapped under him as Lewis forced him into a seated position. He was still hunched over but Olivia could still hear him wince in pain at the force of the seating. As Lewis pushed Will's shoulder up, forcing him into an upright position she could see why. Her husband's face was hardly recognizable as his own in that moment. His one eye was a purpley-red and swollen shut while on his forehead above it there was a bump that looked near the size of a hardball perturbing in a blue-black color. His other eyes was glassy, terrified and sad while the streaks of dried tears were visible on his cheek.

Lewis leaned in a ripped the piece of duct tape away from Will's mouth. He again made a sound as the adhesive pulled away a layer of the delicate and sensitive skin. It left a red mark like a painted joker's grin spanning up each cheek. But what Olivia really noticed was his puffy split lip and the trail of blood coming down with it, joining with the flow coming from the gash on the lump on his forehead and pooling in a caked tarn on his shirt.

"Sorry," Will near whispered to her in a gurgley and cracked voice. She could see blood along his teeth and collecting in his salvia grogged mouth too.

"It's not your fault," she managed back in an even tone but seeing him like that made her own voice want to crack and her own tears start to pool in her eyes. This was going to destroy him. Will didn't have the resources to handle this. No one should need to have the resources to handle a situation like she'd placed them in – like what she'd let her job place them in. And, now she'd volunteered up her husband to go through hell on the false hopes that it would mean Noah would be OK. Noah who still had a clear sight of everything that was going on in the room – his parents hurt, scared and in tears. A frightening man holding them all prisoner.

"Hey!" Lewis barked. "I decide the topics of conversation, honey. No talking."

Olivia quieted. It was better not to talk anyway. Her voice was going to betray her and how scared she actually was. Instead she tried to meet and keep Will's remaining good eye. But it looked so unfocused. She wondered if his contact lens had been pushed in a way that had created a painful tear or if he had them in at all. Maybe he'd been wearing his glasses when Lewis had got to him and with them ripped from his face now he couldn't even see her face just a few feet away from him. She thought the most likely answer to his blurry-eyed gaze, though, was that the blow to his head had left him concussed and he could barely keep his eye open or mind focused. The tone that he usually spoke back to her with just his eyes wasn't there to reassure her and she didn't think he could see the assurances she was trying to provide him either.

"We were just talking about Olivia disrobing for us, Will," Lewis said and shot her another look from his stance behind her husband. "Does she give a good strip tease?"

Will offered no response and Lewis' free hand flew down and grabbed her husband's curly locks, yanking his head back hard. Olivia already knew from earlier that Lewis seemed to have an expert knowledge about how to grab hair in just the right way to tug the locks taunt in a pain that screamed through the scalp and down the spine. Will made another guttural sound at the yank.

"I'm talking to you," Lewis spit into his face.

"I wouldn't know," Will grunted.

That seemed to make Lewis just smile, his grip loosening on Will's hair and his head falling back into place.

"He wouldn't know?" he quipped now at her. "Cultured woman won't give her husband a show?"

Olivia just let out a slow breath. She felt like a deer in headlights more than she'd felt in a long time. She couldn't move. She didn't know where to go. She knew what she needed to do to get out of there but the risk felt too great for all involved. There would be too much sacrifice – and for what? For how? She hadn't felt that way since Gitano had held Elliot at gunpoint and she couldn't make the decision to pull the trigger. To kill the perp but to watch her partner – her friend – die in the process. She hadn't had to make the decision then. A sniper had saved her ass. She'd always been left wondering if she could've pulled the trigger? If she could've made the decision that would've ended her best friend's life? She didn't have a sniper there to save her from that decision this time. She didn't have anyone but herself. No one knew they were in trouble. It was likely that no one would realize for days – long after the outcome had already been decided and their saving was far too late.

"What else won't a cultured woman do for her husband?" Lewis asked. She just looked at him. There wasn't any point in answering. He was in control. He was going to make his demands. She could try to negotiate them – but she wasn't going to offer the initial suggestions. "Tell me Detective Benson when's the last time you got down on your knees?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"I think Will here deserves something he's going to remember for the rest of his life. Don't you?" Lewis asked with that tease still in his voice. He knew he had her – them – backed into a corner.

Olivia could see Will trembling. She couldn't decide if it was out of fear or anger – or that his body was starting to fall into shock. She almost felt like it might be better if his body – his mind – just did start to shut down. She didn't want him to have to deal with this. To remember it. To feel it.

"Liv … don't …" he near whimpered out like he had at least sensed her hesitation. Her reluctance to adhere to Lewis' commands but her acceptance that she needed to do what their capture demanded.

Her husband knew all to well why she'd never gone down on him before. If Lewis had managed to track that bit of personal information from her past was questionable. It was more likely that he'd just decided she was a prude and that a 'cultured woman' wouldn't participate in oral sex. He thought it would be humiliating for her. To get down on her eyes – in front of him – and to take her husband into her mouth with an audience. But it wasn't just humiliating. It was more than just a violation. It was ripping up a wound that her and Will had worked so hard together to heal for her. It was a sacred area of their relationship. A limitation that her husband had been understanding and protective of. He'd even stopped her when she'd tried to motivate herself – force herself – to be a doting wife and a reciprocating partner. Now Lewis was about to shatter that trust, bond and understanding she'd created with her husband.

"Lewis …" she started in an attempt at negotiation. But she didn't even have a chance to try to form the rest of the sentence. The gun moved from being pointed at her to ramming into Will's temple in such a way that he emitted another sound and his head jerked to the side. She could see him tremble more at its sudden presence against his head and the reality that his life was determined by just the finger of a psychopathic man in their bedroom.

"I said, get down on your knees," Lewis pushed out of pursed lips in a false staccato.

Olivia held up her hands as if in surrender. "OK …" she said and moved to lower herself down, transferring her weight onto one knee and then the other as she came to rest in front of her husband in a way she never had before.

"Whatever you say, Lewis," she said, trying to sound agreeable. Though, she knew being agreeable might be a false move. He didn't want her to be agreeable. He wanted her to fight with him. To grapple with each demand. To beg and plead. To say she'd do anything for her family. Do anything for her own life. And then to just want to die. But at the moment she was still more concerned about her family's life and death. If Lewis was going to kill Will she wouldn't let him do it with her husband trembling in fear, terrified with a gun pressed to his temple.

She met Will's eyes and gently let her hands come to rest on his knees, trying to give them a small, re-assuring squeeze. Trying to speak to him with her eyes as much as she could – for him to see her and to calm. But all she could feel was how much he was shaking – tremors he was clearly trying to keep hidden from Lewis. She knew it was probably taking a determined section of his brain for Will to keep from engaging in his usual nervous knee bounce and the reality of that was rattling through her now placed hands.

"It's going to be OK," she more mouthed than even whispered to Will. She felt a repressed sob that came out as more of a shutter from her husband.

"Don't Liv," his voice cracked again. "You don't have to. It's OK."

Lewis' gun pressed harder into Will's temple – pushing his head further to the side. Will cocked it at an even more awkward angle like he was trying to relieve some of the pressure, to give himself even the tiniest bit of space.

"Both of you SHUT UP," Lewis hissed again and grabbed at Will's hair pulling his head back until he could meet his eyes. "What are you crying, Will? You should be thanking me. We're giving you a special send off." He let go of her husband's curls and whacked his head forward in a way that caused Will's head to lull almost like a rag doll's for a moment. But then Lewis' eyes shifted to her. "Undo his pants."

Olivia looked up at him. "I'll do whatever you want, Lewis. But my son doesn't need to be here for this. If you won't let him go, at least let me take him downstairs."

Her little boy didn't need to see this imposed assault Lewis was about to force her and Will to commit to each other. He didn't need to see what she feared would be the execution of his father. The rape of his mother. Noah didn't need to be there. He shouldn't be there. She'd failed both of her boys so much. Placed her family in a situation she still was looking for loopholes to get them out of – but those potential escape routes were seeming fewer and fewer with each devastatingly long second that passed.

It was the wrong thing to say, though. Lewis' eyes seemed to light up even more and he glanced back over his shoulder to her huddled son, that sadistic grin spreading across his face again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Lewis carried her son over – his hand looped under his one elbow, dragging him along almost like he was a hockey duffle back. In his opposite hand he still had the gun pointed in hers and Will's direction. Noah's arms were pulled tight behind his back – the movement pulling at his shoulder and his little armpits like he was Lewis had creates some sort of improvised rack device in the movement. But her little boy barely made a sound with the movement. His eyes, though, betrayed his pain and fear.

"You're hurting him," Olivia plead to Lewis.

He shot her an angry look and nearly threw Noah to the floor at the foot of one of their bedside tables. It was enough of a drop that her child made a noise like the wind had just been knocked out of his small lungs. Olivia leaned away from her husband and moved to right her son from his slumped position. To try to offer him some re-assurance to finally get to touch him for the first time, to hope that that physical contact might help calm him or trick him into believing that she really was there and would save them from this man.

"Hurting him?" Lewis near laughed at her. "You're the one who's going to decide how much I hurt him."

"You've already hurt him enough," she spat at him.

But it just made him smile wider and again that tongue rested against this teeth like some sort of serpent as he assessed how he could devour them.

"I've hardly touched him," Lewis replied after too calmly. "You know that. Or have you forgotten how the game works?" She just glared at him. She wasn't going to run his methods of torture through her head while envisioning her son as the victim. She'd never let him get that far. She'd sacrifice herself before that could happen.

Lewis leaned forward and ripped the tape from across Noah's mouth. With the movement her son spit hard into the man's face. Olivia felt her heart skip and near throw herself between the two – expecting all of the monster's wrath to cascade down onto her son and wanting to take the brunt of it. But he again just smiled and slowly and purposely wiped the salvia off with the back of his hand and then reached out and grabbed her, pulling her away from her son. She stiffened her body, digging in all her weight and heels, holding out her arms to block access. But from his upward angle he still overpowered her and tossed her near effortlessly back to her place at Will's feet.

"I think you've got to teach your boy some manners," he said, his eyes now dancing at Noah while the child glared at him with intense defiance.

"Leave him alone, Lewis," Olivia begged this time.

He barely glanced at her and his free hand snapped out and grabbed at Noah's short cut hair. There was hardly any there and Olivia knew the maneuver must be sending pain screaming through the boy's roots and scalp. But he again hardly winced and continued to glare at their captor. Her son already knew pain. He knew fear. Far better than any child his age should. Still, she thought he should be scared. He should be more compliant with this man. He didn't need to be the defiant one.

"How old are you Noah?" Lewis demanded, lowering his face to just inches from the boy's. Olivia feared that Noah might again spit at him or even bite him. Part of her wanted him to but she also knew that this time the punishment would be swifter and Lewis was positioned in such a way that it would be harder for her to get between them. Noah offered no response and Lewis pulled on his hair harder, drawing his head further back and drilling into his eyes even more. The gun came up and rammed under the child's chin. "HOW – OLD?"

Will shifted in the chair – near jumping out of it as he saw the gun touch their son's skin. "He's eight. He's eight," Will near yelp and Olivia offered him a glance. She'd been so focused on what the Beast was doing to her child she hadn't been watching her husband's reactions to the same scene. Will didn't have the same capacity to process and assess the scene as she did. He didn't know what should or shouldn't be said. What information to leave out or hold back. What to lie about.

Lewis' eyes tracked to Will too and again he let that tongue snake out the side of his mouth – looking back to the boy. "Are you lying to me Will?" he said as he considered Noah who continued to glare silently at him. "A little small for eight …". His gun began to track across Noah's collar bone as he considered that.

Olivia sat forward, inching towards them again and held up her hand. "He's eight," she interjected trying to defuse the situation. She left out that he was just days away from his ninth birthday. She omitted the fear that he may not live to get to it – or that she may not live to see it. "It's the cancer," she said. "It stunted his growth."

"Mmm…" Lewis allowed while he considered that statement and continued his diligent examination of her son.

"Just let him go," Will said again, his voice more vocally cracking and this time a tear streaming down his cheek. "You have us. Let him go."

Noah's eyes shifted. "Don't cry, Dad," he said with a calmness that terrified Olivia almost more than what was happening in front of her. Noah always hated when they cried – when he saw them hurting. Even during his cancer treatment it would be him who'd sooth and comfort them if he caught them upset. Him who would tell them it would be OK, that he was OK, to not be sad, to not cry. And he was still trying to tell them that now when even in his young mind he must know how dire their situation was. It made Olivia's own eyes well even more and she near choked trying to hold back a sob.

Lewis looked over his shoulder to Will and smiled. "Yeah, don't cry, Dad," he said. "You're going to get your turn."

Will couldn't hold in his own sob any longer at that and it shock his body, causing Lewis to laugh but he just looked back to their little boy.

"You must've had good parents, Noah," Lewis said. "Had a good mom." It wasn't lost on Olivia that he was using past tense. Had. It was like the seconds on the clock of her life were ticking down even faster.

"Leave my Mom and Dad alone, ASSHOLE!" Noah screamed at him as his hair was yanked even tighter.

Lewis laughed even harder at that and eyed her while she held up her hand again trying to defuse the situation more, trying to wordlessly beg him to release her son. "Manners, manners," he said and then rammed his gun into the boy's jugular with such force that Olivia thought it would leave an instantaneous bruise. "Now you tell your mom what we talked about?" he hissed into the boy's ear.

"Lewis …" she started, shifting her position some more.

But he just shoved the gun up harder, pushing Noah's chin higher. "Shh …. Shh …," he said. "Noah has something to tell you. Don't you?" His eyes drilled into the boy and the gun pressed firmer and firmer into the soft area on her child's neck until he grunted with the discomfort.

"He says you have to be good Mom or he's going to hurt me," Noah said in a small voice. It was a child's voice – distant and fearful. It wasn't the voice of the little man he was trying to present to Lewis. The defiance faded and cracked under the pressure of the gun.

"You don't want Noah to get hurt, do you Detective Benson?" Lewis pressed teasingly.

She shook her head and held up her hands. "I don't, Lewis. I'll do what you want."

He nodded and released her son's hair, removing the gun – and the child crumpled to the floor again in his restrained position. "Good," he said, shifting back to Will and the gun returning to his temple. "Now, I said, undo his pants."


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Olivia nodded and repositioned herself slightly – on her knees between her husband's. It wasn't a position they'd ever been in before. She kept trying to coach herself that it was just Will. But even in situations that didn't involve a gun to her husband's head that hadn't been enough for her to cross that threshold with him. Now, though, she didn't have a choice. At least not a good one. She didn't want Lewis to see her fear and trauma that ran far deeper than just that moment.

She looked at Noah. For all his defiance he'd tried to exhibit toward Lewis she could see just how scared and hurt he was. How fearful he was – and she felt like she wasn't doing anything to mitigate it. To end it for him. To save him from it.

"Close your eyes, sweets," she told him quietly. "It's going to be OK."

Again that laugh emanated from Lewis and he looked at her. His eyes dancing in a way that reminded her of her husband's dancing eyes. But the glee – the joy – that was flickering in Lewis' didn't bare any semblance to the happiness or the teasing that would flick across Will's grey irises.

"Close his eyes?" Lewis mocked and again released Will and moved back to her boy. "Don't close your eyes, Noah," he said. "I think he's old enough to get a bit of a sex education, don't you?"

Olivia let her eyes plead to him this time. "He doesn't need to see this. He doesn't need to be here," she tried again.

Lewis just grabbed her son by the scruff of the neck in such a way he almost looked like a limp baby animal caught by its prey and about to have its neck snapped in half before being devoured.

"You see what your fine, educated, cultured mother is going to do Noah?" Lewis leaned in to hiss into her son's ear and then pulled his head – and hence his body forward – until her child's eyes were just inches from her husband's crotch too. "She's going to get down on her knees, open her mouth and take Communion." At that he yanked Noah back viciously and tossed him like a rag doll back to his seat against the bedside table. "Some day you'll be so lucky to have somebody do that for you kid. You'll kill for it," he spat and then again returned to his position behind Will. "UNDO HIS PANTS."

Olivia again nodded but reached out to try to right her son's slumped and whimpering body. "Mom …" he near whined.

"LEAVE HIM!" Lewis barked. "UNDO HIS PANTS."

She ignored him and steadied her son. Lowering him down to the ground so he wouldn't be eye level with what was about to happen. "Close your eyes, Noah," she told him again quietly. "It's going to be alright."

"UNDO HIS PANTS!" Lewis demanded even louder and this time rammed the gun so hard against Will that he let out a cry of pain.

She turned back to them and looked into Will's sad and welling eyes. He was so scared – so hurt by what was happening. She knew he'd be so frustrated with his inability to help them and his incapacity to mitigate the situation.

"It's going to be OK," she told him too but it only prompted Lewis to jam the gun even harder against him. Will's head pushed to the side with the force and she saw his lip quiver as he tried to manage his emotions.

Olivia gave Noah a last glance. He'd buried his face into their soft throw rug and she could see he'd scrunched his eyes so tightly shut that it was pulling the skin in his cheekbones and temples tight. Lewis hadn't again demanded he open them and watch. She didn't think he would. This wasn't necessarily about torturing her husband and son. They were just collateral. They were pawns – tools – he'd been able to implement in his actual goal. Torturing and humiliating her. He was achieving it. Knowing the scars that this would leave on her family was causing an insurmountable ache already.

She looked back to Will and met his eyes. "Liv …" he sputtered and gave the smallest head shake. He knew what this was doing to her – what this would do to her. He didn't want to be an instrument in it. But they didn't have a choice.

She leaned forward onto her knees more and raised her hands to his lap. She could feel Lewis watching her – sneering. He was getting off on it. Her pain and he'd hardly touched her yet. She hoped he couldn't see the tremble in her hands that she could feel shaking with her own nerves, fear and anxiety. Rattling her while she fought to keep her composure. To keep her head on straight. To still try to plot the escape for her and her family.

As she reached for Will's fly she realized that his belt was missing. It was only then that it set in that it wasn't duct tape binding Will's hands. The leather and metal of his belt was digging tight into his wrists and keeping his hands firmly behind his back. She gave him a small glance. She knew it must hurt. Though, maybe not so much at this point. He'd likely be bound long enough that he'd started to lose feeling. But the lack of blood flow to his extremities seemed almost more dangerous than him having to endure the pressure of rope burn of the tight grip of sticky duct tape.

Instead, of reaching for his belt to unbuckle it, she tried to still if fingers enough to not fumble while she popped the button on his jeans and then carefully pulled down the zipper of his fly. Will's chest heaved at the movement. But rather than his usual excitement when she undid his pant, that she still saw flicker in him after years of being together, she knew it was more out of dread than anticipation. The dread of the anticipation, though, was forced to last longer as Lewis reached in front of them and pushed her back.

"So, let's see what we've got here," Lewis said and trailed the gun down Will's chest and then looped it into the waistband of his briefs. The gun trailed back and forth along the top of Will's pelvis – brushing across his navel. Olivia could see his chest heaving more as her husband tried to control his breathing and calm himself and the fear that was bubbling over in him. She could near feel his heart pounding out of his chest. She knew in Lewis' draped position, their captor likely could too and he was likely enjoying it.

Lewis met her eyes – that tease still there – and then he used the gun to pull the briefs away from his body. He then leaned further over her husband and gazed down before his mouth returned to hiss in Will's ear. "Not a lot going on down there, Willie." He looked at her. "Been a while since you've been with a real man?" The gun came back up to Will's temple as she offered no response – just a glare. "Take him out," Lewis said flatly.

She watched Lewis but moved back between her husband's legs and gently spread his fly a bit more, before finding the opening in his briefs. She met Will's eyes. He was crying. Silently but the tears were there. She tried to communicate to him with their shared silent discussion of just looks that it was going to still be alright. But they both knew she was lying. It wasn't. Her hand found him and she carefully pulled him out. His fear of the situation had caused his body to pull in closer to himself – looking smaller and laxer even than his usual flaccid state. She looked at him momentarily as her mind churned what she was supposed to do now. Would Lewis let her manipulate him with her hand or would he demand she immediately take him into her mouth? She mentally weighed and balanced that – trying to prepare herself for that motion. Coaching her mind to stay in the present and to not go to the past. Though, at the moment Sealview and being stuck in that basement with Harris somehow seemed far less terrifying than this. It was just about her. She didn't have to worry about her husband or son or all the implications this would have on them if they survived. She knew too well what an experience like this could do to a person for the rest of their lives. At least she thought she did.

Lewis again looked down at Will's soft and exposed penis. "Not enjoying yourself Willie?" he quizzed. His eyes again found her. "You really don't know how to show your husband a good time do you? I'll have to give you some lessons."

With that he yanked Will hard, dragging him to his feet and near over the back of the seat. His knee hit against her chin as he was pulled to an upright position – his privates still hanging out of the front of his pants.

"Wait, wait," Will suddenly started to start his pleas of his own as the gun now pressed into his spine. "Just … just untie me. I can do it. It's not her fault. I'll get it up. We'll do what you want."

Lewis laughed and looked around him to her as Olivia slumped backwards from the force that Will had been pulled up, knocking her off her knees.

"You hear that?" he said. "He thinks he can get it up for you. He have to do that often?"

"Lewis … "she tried her own pleas, suddenly feeling like she was seeing her husband's life flash before her eyes. She'd failed him. "He's scared. Just … give us a few minutes to get there."

"Hmm…" he said and made a face like he was actually momentarily considering it. But then again that smile spread. "I would but me and you, sweetheart, we're on a bit of a schedule. I don't have a lot of time for playing around with someone who can't get it up. And," he now hissed back into Will's ears. "This is all about what she can do with her hands and mouth. I'm not really interested in what you can do with yours."

He grabbed at the chair pulling it further away from the bed and maneuvered Will's stiff and struggling body around it, pulling his arms around the back of it and then shoving him back into a seated position. His arms now trapped around the back, even more holding him in place and an upright position. Lewis looked behind him and then leaned in to grab a roll of duct tape from their dresser and tossed it at her.

"Tape his legs to the chair," he ordered.


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"Tighter," Lewis demanded. "I want him to be able to struggle. Not move."

Olivia looked over her shoulder and gave him daggers before turning back to her son. After she'd bound Will's feet to the legs of the chair and replaced the duct tape on his mouth, Lewis had tossed her son onto the bed and approached him with scissors in a way that had sent her again throwing her body on top of his – only for the man to overpower her again and toss her to the side. While her heart skipped beats and her son screamed, Lewis had simply pushed his knee into Noah's back and then used the scissors to slit the duct tape binding his hands. With his knee still pressing the boy into the mattress he'd ripped a pair of stockings in half, that she wasn't even sure where he'd pulled from but were clearly from her garments drawer. He again threw them in her direction and ordered her to tie her son to the bed frame. She'd hesitated but that gun had again pressed into her son's skull and she heard his muffled crying into the bedding. So she'd complied.

She was trying to be as gentle as possible. She'd tried to keep the material from cutting too deep into his wrists and had given him as much slack as the stretchy material would allow as she tied the knots on the iron frame. But with each knot, Lewis briefly lowered the gun and reached forward to check her work and ordered her to redo her efforts. Noah was looking at her with the saddest eyes she'd ever seen. Tears were silently streaming down his face. She wasn't his hero anymore. The disappointment radiating off him was palatable. He didn't understand. Her doing this to him might be his only chance at survival. She hoped. She hoped she wasn't just setting him up for more torture.

"Sweets, you just have to lie still," she whispered as she leaned forward and tightened the last knot. "OK? Lie still and try to rest."

"Oh, that's no fun," Lewis said and she felt the muzzle of his gun press into the back of her head. "Take off his shorts," he demanded.

She looked down at her terrified little boy. "He'll be cold," she said flatly. It was a weak excuse. Noah being cold was really the least of her worried at that point. But it was an excuse that seemed as good as any.

"You do it – or I will," he spat into her ear. His mouth was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath breezing into her ear canal.

She met Noah's eyes. They just glassed more and he looked away from her, gazing at the ceiling. She'd gone through years of cancer treatment, surgeries, rehabilitation with him and she'd never seen his eyes look so empty. That spark was gone. That look that she knew that settled in when victims were waiting for death – when they'd decided it would be better than what lay ahead. It broke her heart and made the extent of her failure settle that much more into the pit of her belly – spreading like a wildfire through her being. It was consuming her. It wasn't enough for this man to try to destroy her. He was destroying her family and taking it to a point that she thought might be beyond repair.

Still, she reached forward and looped her thumbs into the waistband of her child's underwear and worked them down his legs. Despite not having his legs bound, Noah made no move to struggle or fight against the movement. Though she again her Will make a sound behind her. He was full of tears too but with his mouth covered each surge sent him into a heaving, coughing fit that she fears he might asphyxiate himself on his own salvia if he wasn't able to calm himself.

"Now how do you think Noah and Will are going to feel when they get found like this?" Lewis intoned behind her as she finished getting Noah's underwear off. Her son was now sprawled naked on the bed while her husband was bound to a chair, his penis hanging out of his pants, blood caked on his shirt and his face so battered he was hardly recognizable. It was horrifying and humiliating. Yet Olivia still hoped they'd get found sooner rather than later. She'd rather her family be found in a state of brutality than for them to be found dead. "Would've been easier for you to just take off your clothes, wouldn't've it?"

She boiled at the comment and grabbed the blanket from the end of the bed. Opening it and spreading it across Noah. Fuck Lewis. Her son was still trapped. He was still terrorized. He was still scarred and humiliated. He wouldn't be cold too. Though, she knew as soon as he started moving the blanket was likely to more to confine him than it was to warm him.

"You didn't give me that option," she barked harshly without looking at him. Instead she stooped slightly to tuck the blanket around Noah. But it was then that Lewis' weight came down on her – pressing her onto the bed and on top of Noah.

"Didn't I?" he spat even more harshly into her ear and she felt herself struggling against him.

His hands were grabbing at her arms and pulling them back behind her. But what she could really feel was his arousal pushing against her ass as she fought. She wanted to flail so badly – to kick, to scream, to punch, to scratch him. She'd already learned, though, even in their limited interactions that despite his wiry stance, he was built like a lone wolf. There was a power and ferocity in his stature and he could easily overpower her. Beyond that she was acutely aware that now two adult bodies were pressing down onto her small, meek son who was screaming.

"MOOOOOOOOOMMMM! MOOMMMMM!" was he wailed.

Will too was screaming against his gag. A muffled, breathy groan emitting from him. She could feel Lewis just getting off on it even more. The firmness of his erection growing and pressing hard between her ass cheeks as he held her down. Olivia didn't have to see him to know he was smiling. That toothy grin nearly glowing with saliva from his drooling at his power in the situation. She could feel Noah struggling and cries vibrating against her. She could hear Will's chair hopping and knew he was fighting against his own confines. Then there was a clatter. She knew that he'd tumbled to the floor – the chair hitting the ground along with his already badly bruised body. Yet he still continued to scream against the gag and to flail on the floor.

The terror radiating from the two people she loved most in the world forced her to make herself to stop her struggling and to let Lewis do what he wanted – her arms moving behind her back and she heard as he ripped his own strip of duct tape and began to wrap it tightly around her wrists.

She looked into Noah's horrified eyes. "It's going to be OK, sweets," she told him, though she felt her own tears starting to stream out of her eyes. "I'm going to be OK. You'll be OK. Someone will be here to get you soon."

"Don't lie to him," Lewis said as he yanked her up off the bed. He had full control of her now. Her hands bound and the gun still pressing into her.

"MOOOOOMMMM!" Noah screamed again.

Lewis gave the little boy another grin but then grabbed her long hair, pulling it back and directing her to turn around. As she did she saw Will sprawled on the floor as she expected – still squirming in a fight to pull his legs free of the chair or to dislocate his shoulders in an effort to loop his arms free of the back. His muffled cries for her release continued and Lewis gazed down at him.

"This guy just never shuts up," he muttered and then pushed her slightly to the side while bringing his foot back in a kick so harsh to Will's head that his neck instantly snapped back and his body stilled into a slump of dead weight.

"WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLL. NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Olivia felt herself scream before her cop-hardened mind even had a chance to process an acceptable reaction.

Noah's voice joined hers, shifting from his cries for her to an agonizing, "DAAAAAAADDD!"

She fought hard against Lewis, trying to escape to check on her husband. She managed to fall to her knees and crawled to him. "Will? Will?" she cried, fighting against the restraints holding her hands in place. She let her body slump down trying to see if she could still hear or feel his breathing when she couldn't manage to free her hands to touch him. "Will?"

But Lewis only let her have a moment next to him before he grabbed at her elbows and again dragged her to her feet.

"Time to say good-bye," he told her.

"Lewis, Lewis … please …" she struggled more as Noah screamed in the background. But all the sounds were starting to mix together into a throbbing white noise at that point.

He shuffled her forward roughly while she continued to try to pull away from him – trying to get back to her family. Her crumbling family that was slipping away from her right before her eyes. As they passed their dresser again, Lewis stopped her and seemed to examine them in the dressing mirror. Olivia could see she was already coated with a glean of sweat. Her hair having turned into a stringy and matted mess. Even from what she'd endured so far there were the starts of bumps and bruises on her face and neck from her struggles and the pressure of the gun. But it was still nothing compared to what he'd done to her husband up to that point.

Lewis smiled at the picture of them. His eyes glinting as he again traced the gun around her upper body.

"You're going to do things you didn't even know you were capable of," he whispered to her, his grin widening.

She struggled again but he barely seemed to notice. Instead he leaned forward to the small stereo they had there. Hitting the play button and cranking the volume to the max. Even out of the small unit it was enough to make the room bellow – drowning out Noah's continued cries. The unit synced to their devices. The never-ending music that usually filled their house – quieting Will's always analytical mind and distracting her always haunted one. It was usually their most recently played items that popped into the playlist on the bedroom unit. That would mean that it should likely be Will's work-out playlist. The loud, booming soundtrack meant to push him through one of his runs. She could only hope that would rouse someone's suspicions about the level of the noise coming from their apartment.

But it wasn't pumping bass that blared out of the stereo as the Beast set it in motion. Instead it was a song that Will had long ago told her epitomized how he'd grappled with their relationship – their friendship, their undefined status – in the early days. Will – who had soundtrack for his life. Will – who listened to the most obscure bands she'd (n)ever heard of well singing and dancing to silly pop music in an effort to make her make her smile. Will – who treated music like poetry and a life blood that she didn't quite understand but knew that it was ruled by numbers similar to the sports and games and physics that monopolized other parts of his brilliant mind. Will – who had a playlist for near everything and would dedicate hours to making them. Will – who had put this song on a quiet set of music that often played in the background while they made love. A song that had played in the background earlier that week while her husband doted on her in the bedroom and expressed his love to her despite what an absentee wife and mother she'd been being that month while she buried herself in work rather than family.

She could feel Lewis listening to the quiet melody for a moment. In the mirror she saw the toothy smile tug more and more at his mouth as he realized what the lyrics were saying. He brushed at her hair – moving it away from her ear before tugging it hard back, bring the same ear closer to his mouth.

"Do I make you scared, Detective Benson?"

_**If you're wondering about the song (and didn't recognize the obscure reference to the lyrics of the obscure song by an obscure group) check out Scared by the Tragically Hip.**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"Why on Earth are they playing their music this loud?" May muttered at Ted as they clattered into the front of their son's brownstone apartment.

"They probably just forgot to turn off their clock radio in the morning," Ted said as he pushed around her and seated himself on the entrance bench to remove his shoes.

"Surely they don't need it that loud to get themselves up and on the go in the morning," May said as she removed her jacket and opened the front foyer closet to find a hanger. She paused a moment and looked at the coats inside, pushing them around. "Their jackets are here," she commented.

Ted glanced up from untying his laces. "How can you even tell?" he huffed. "They only have about six each."

May pulled out one of Noah's and held it up at him. "This is Noey's spring jacket."

Ted shrugged. "It's a nice day," he said.

She sighed. "Olivia wouldn't be sending Noah out without his jacket. Not at this time of year and with his immune system the way it is. A good breeze gives him a cold."

Her husband huffed. "Olivia's working a case, May," he said. "Will told you that. She's busy. She hasn't been home. You son likely didn't feel like the boy needed a jacket today. Noey would've likely just left it in his locker even if he got sent to school with it."

May shook her head at him. "Will should know better," she said and replaced the jacket back in the closet, joining hers. She felt like she was almost having to yell at her husband to be heard with the level the music was blaring. "He should know better about this music too. He's going to blow out all their ear drums. Do you remember when he was in high school and he'd get so mad at us that he'd stomp up to his room and than shake the walls with that boom box of his?"

Ted snorted a laugh of acknowledgement of that memory, as he pulled himself up off the bench and snatched up the little soft-sided cooler bag with the contents for the dinner that his wife had insisted they 'surprise' their son, daughter-in-law and grandchild with. Ted wasn't sure how much of a 'surprise' it'd be in the way his wife wanted. He didn't think his son or daughter-in-law would right out throw them out of the apartment. But he certainly didn't expect them to be welcomed with open arms. He fully expected that closed off body language and tone from the couple that still exhibited itself when they felt that their space or family life was being invaded. May never seemed to pick up on it as much as he did, though. Or she was just far better at ignoring it. If William or Olivia had wanted their help that week – they'd be answering their phones. Ted thought it was more than clear they just wanted their space at the moment. He found it easier to take a stare down from his son or daughter-in-law, though, than to say 'no' to his wife who was bound-and-determined that showing up unannounced with a Friday dinner mea culpa was the best way to smooth out any annoyance she'd caused in their youngest. He wasn't sure he quite agreed with her logic – at all.

"I'll go see about turning it off after I take this to the kitchen for you," he mumbled and made his way through the living room.

Ted plopped the cooler into the counter nearest the fridge and started to unzip it to empty the contents for his wife who was still dallying on her way to the kitchen. He knew she'd be taking stock in the apartment like she hadn't been there for months. Really it'd just been over a week. But he was sure she'd still fuss around. Touch, move and tidy things in a way that was sure to agitate his daughter-in-law who still took any help from the other woman as some sort of commentary on her ability to keep house. Olivia left a list on the days they were allowed in the home – once a week – to help them tend to their grandson and the house amidst her and Will's busy careers. It was always very specific of simple chores and errands that it'd taken years for her to grow comfortable with allowing them to help with. Ted was pleased to honor the list. But not May. She always meddled into something that Ted thought he sometimes saw Olivia's eyes rolling out of her head when she returned home to find her mother-in-law's latest efforts to 'help'.

"May – don't touch anything," he called back to her, turning his shoulder back towards the door. "You know how Olivia feels about that – and we aren't supposed to be here."

"The living room could use a dusting," May commented back to him. But he'd hardly heard it. His eyes had fallen onto a carton of eggs that was sitting out by the sink. He looked at it questioningly and then moved across the kitchen to it.

May appeared just as he was picking it up to examine. "We didn't bring eggs," she commented.

He just shrugged. "They must've forgotten them at breakfast," he said but popped the carton open and saw that it was still full. He glanced next to the carton at a grocery bag still sitting there full of the necessities to clearly make a nice breakfast – likely Eggs Benedict and fruit salad by the looks of it. But the ingredients hadn't even made it to the fridge, let alone the stove top.

He glanced at his wife but she was examining something else – Olivia's purse sitting in the sill of the serving window. She picked up one of their damn iPhones from next to it and looked at it.

Ted sighed. "I don't think they forgot to turn off the alarm clock this morning," he muttered and looked up at the ceiling. His son was going to be beyond embarrassed and likely livid when he realized his parents were downstairs. "We should've called."

"I've been calling for days, Theodore," May sighed and gazed at the abandoned phone like it was a mystery device. It might as well have been. No matter how many times their grandchildren – and children – tried to show them how to operate the damn things, it just didn't seem to make sense. Not to mention the text on the things was so damn small. He didn't understand why they couldn't just stick with the flip phones. Hadn't those been enough of a technological revolution?

"May, don't touch that," he barked a bit. "And you've been calling a day. They were clearly busy. They are busy."

"Oh, Olivia doesn't bother with her purse all the time," she said dismissively. "It being here doesn't mean anything."

"Well she sure as hell bothers with that damn phone," Ted said. "The thing might as well be growing out of her hand."

May glanced at her. "It's William's phone," she said.

"And just how the hell do you know that?" he said. "Stop playing with it. Before you break it."

She glared at him. "Olivia's is white," she said and waved the back of the thing at him. "William's is black – and William would forget his head if it wasn't attached to his shoulders."

Ted sighed. "The music blaring and their groceries on the counter clearly mean something." His wife looked at him blankly. "May, they've clearly taken the day off to have some ALONE time together," he said and gestured upwards to the bedroom above their heads.

May huffed at that. "William and Olivia take their jobs far too seriously to be skipping out on work," she said with a head shake and moved around from the serving window and into the kitchen to begin putting away the groceries herself.

Ted shook his head at her and directed her shoulders back towards the entrance of the small room. "I think we should be on our way," he said.

She glared at him. "I came here to make them dinner and to see my grandson," she told him sternly. "I'm making dinner."

Ted almost gaped at her. "May – they don't know we're here. They're going to be rightfully upset when they realize we're in their space – especially during their private time."

She huffed. "If you're so convinced they're upstairs – then you best go and tell them we're here."

He looked at her sternly. "I am not walking in on my son and his wife," he said.

She snorted at that notion. "Well they'll be more upset coming downstairs and realizing we've been here all along, if they're even up there," she said.

"May – we should get going," he said again. "We'll leave a note. We'll see them on Sunday."

She waved her hand dismissively at him as she placed some of the abandoned groceries in the fridge. "You do what you want," she said. "But go up and turn off that awful music before you leave – like you promised."

He looked at her hard for several moments – but she just ignored him, finishing putting away the breakfast ingredients and turning her attention to emptying the cooler and preparing her dinner-making efforts. He finally let out a sigh and padded through the living room to the bottom of the stairs leading up to his son's and daughter-in-law's bedroom. The door at the bottom of the stairs was open and placing his hand on the railing he could feel it vibrating with the bass of the music.

"William," he called up the stairs, even though he knew it was a vain attempt. If they were up there, there was no way they were going to hear him above the music. Him and May were speaking in raised voices to even hear themselves speak in the same room. He was almost surprised they hadn't gotten complaints about the level of the music. But he supposed that most of their neighbors would be out at work and the couple living above the family was likely more deaf than him and May. "Your mother and I are here. She wanted to check in on you. We brought you dinner."

There was no response but he thought he could hear some muffled noise and movement. He was straining against the loud beats, though. He couldn't be sure. Still, he thought it was enough of an indication that his son and Olivia were taking advantage of a quiet afternoon together.

He glanced at his wrist watch measuring how long it would likely be before one or both of them emerged to walk down the block to retrieve their son from school. He sighed. It could still be a couple hours. He certainly didn't feel comfortable sitting in his son's living room while he and his wife were having sex in the bedroom above his head but he could also just imagine Will's and Olivia's faces when they did come downstairs and find him and May there. Still, he had to weigh that against how horrified he would've ever been if his parents had ever caught him and his wife in the act – as a married, adult couple. Ted might've been able to brush it off. But that wasn't his son. That would be an embarrassment that Will would carry with him like he was still a teenager caught necking in the basement.

"William," he called out a bit more loudly this time. There was another sound – this time more like movement. He let out a sigh of relief. They must've heard – and he waited to hear more footsteps and hopefully the damn music to turn off. For his son to call down at him in an angry, annoyed and likely horrified voice. He'd take it, though. William could take it up with his mother. This was all her idea anyways.

But the footsteps and the silence didn't come. Instead Ted heard a continued motion and muffled noise that even against all the beating music didn't sound much like sex to him. He considered it a moment and gazed more up the top of the stairs – straining his ears. He swore he heard a "Popa" amid the mutterings and as his eyes squinted against the light he thought he saw movement on the floor.

His mind paused and he stilled himself on the bottom step – considering it. "William?" he called up the stairs again and watched as something flailed on the floor and that muffled sound came again.

Ted started to mount the stairs – moving slowly and cautiously. He still thought there was a good chance he might be walking in on his son and daughter-in-law amidst something that he doubted they wanted their parents to see. But as he got about halfway up the stairs he realized how wrong he was. A chair was turned over onto its side on the floor and caught amongst its legs was a wriggling form that looked more like a dying animal than a human being. He dashed up the remaining few steps and dropped to his knees next to the battered figure.

"Oh my God, Will," he sputtered and cupped the head of his battered son – bounded to a chair and gagged with duct tape. "Oh my God. What happened?" he spewed as he glanced over his spoiled body and reached to removed the tape from his mouth. But before he could rip it free he heard the muttered cry of "Popa" again and rotated his head towards the bed to see his little grandson – naked and tangled amongst a blanket, his arms pulled above his head tied to the bed frame while his thin wrists were rubbed raw from his struggles.

"Popa," the boy cried at him – his voice hoarse from hours of crying out against the music for help.

Ted glanced at his bruised son and his one open eye glassy but conscious. He knew his son would want him to go to the little boy first and Ted near threw himself to the bed.

"Noey," he felt himself near welling with tears. "Noey, it's OK. Popa's here," he said and struggled against the knots at the bed frame. "May," he screamed against the music. "May! Call 911! Call 911!"

Several moments passed but then he heard his wife at the bottom of the stairs. "Are you calling me?" she yelled up against the still thudding music.

"DON'T COME UP HERE!" Ted yelled harder. "DON'T COME UP HERE! CALL 911!"

But it was too late. His wife appeared at the top of the stairs and he watched as the color drained from her face and her mouth fell into an open gape. She looked at him and Noah at the bed and then down at her youngest son.

"What happen?" she cried and too fell to her knees next to Will, stroking his cheek. "What happened?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Will sighed and pressed the cold pack more firmly into his swollen eye. "I've told you all I can remember," he mumbled.

"OK," Amaro nodded. "But just tell it to me again."

Will sighed even harder at that and looked at the table before meeting the detective's eyes. His whole head was throbbing so hard he could still barely think straight and the agitation of being in that room and not knowing where his wife was just increasing with each passing minute.

"We were getting ready to go to swim team," he said again. It was the third time he'd run over the series of events as best he could remember, which with the amount of time he'd spent unconscious and the concussion he'd sustained during the assault wasn't much. "I'd sent Noah to his room to get changed. I was filling the sink to do dishes. The pipes shook. The pipes only shake when water is running upstairs or in our neighbors. It seemed strange. I thought Noah had gone up to do something in our bathroom. We're trying to discourage him from using our bathroom so I went upstairs and there was a man in my bathroom with a gun to my son's head."

Amaro nodded again. "OK, Will, and then what happened?"

He let out another sigh and shifted the cold pack from his eye up to the lump on his forehead. The pack was starting to thaw to the point that it wasn't worth even holding it against his face. But he certainly wanted something to try to mitigate the pain. Apparently he wasn't allowed to take any pills while he was giving his statement. Will wasn't sure he wanted to be loopy – that out of it – while he still didn't know where Olivia was or the condition she was in.

"He made me tie up my son – with duct tape. His hands. His mouth," Will said slowly.

"And you didn't try to restrain this man? Try to get away?" Amaro asked.

"No," Will spat a little more annoyed. "He had a gun to my son's head."

"OK. And what happened after you finished tying Noah up?"

Will sighed. The way the detective phrased it, it sounded like he was placing blame on him – questioning how he could've agreed to restrain his son's hands, tie him up.

"I don't know," he said and moved his hand to his opposite temple rubbing at it. "I don't remember it's foggy. He said some stuff. He tied up my hands and I guess he knocked me out. I woke up on the floor in our … study."

"And where's that?" Amaro asked again.

Will rolled his one eye up to the ceiling. "It's just off our bedroom. It's just … a little room. A walk-in closet that we use as a … storage and workspace."

"OK. And what happened after you came to?"

Will looked at the table. "I don't know. I drifted in and out. I could hear some talking but I couldn't move. I couldn't keep my eyes open. Eventually he came in and he took me out to the bedroom. Olivia was there then."

"OK," Amaro nodded. "Do you know how long she was there? Or how long Lewis was in your apartment?"

Will sighed. "I have no idea. Hours. Likely."

"So what happened after he brought you back into the bedroom?"

Will gazed at the table again and then glared at Amaro with his good eye. "Look – I don't understand why I need to keep repeating this. Why I'm even here? In a fucking interrogation room? Like I did something wrong? YOU SHOULD BE OUT THERE FINDING MY WIFE," he yelled and pointed madly at the door. But he winced as pain screamed through his fractured ribs and his arm dropped while he let his other hand come up and brace the tight bindings they'd put against his side in the hospital. They seemed to be doing nothing to dull the pain either. He knew his pain counted for little – nothing – compared to what his wife was likely going through, if she was even still alive. He couldn't bring himself to think of the alternative other than finding her alive, though. That's what he expected the NYPD to get off their asses and do.

Amaro barely even blinked at his raised voice. "We're trying to find her, Will," he offered. "But we need your help. We need to know everything that happened to try to figure out where he might've taken her."

Will ran his hands through his hair. "I keep telling you what happened," he muttered.

"I know," Amaro said, putting up his hand in a gentle re-assurance. "But with that concussion – that head injury – made the more we keep repeating it, the more it's going to start come back. You'll remember something that you didn't remember before."

Will sighed and rubbed at his good eye. He wanted to try but he felt like he'd shed all the tears he could. He was dry. No more could come out yet his insides were screaming. He was watching the Towers come down again only this time in slow motion and with a little boy standing next to him wondering why he couldn't save his mother. The crushing weight of the impact and that collapse felt worse than he remembered it. He could hardly breath. He couldn't think.

"Where's my son?" he mumbled.

"He's with John. Detective Munch," Amaro said. "He's in the longue."

"I should be with him," Will said quietly. "He's likely scared."

"He's fine," Amaro said flatly. "Your parents are with him. We only have so many rooms, Will. We aren't trying to treat you like a perp."

He met the other man's eyes. He'd never really liked Amaro. He was too flirty. He was too cocky. He thought he knew it all. He didn't trust him with his wife. Not to protect her in the field. And now he wasn't sure he trusted him to find her – to save her – now.

"You need to find her," he pleaded. He felt his voice cracking – that emotion that had betrayed him so much while her abductor had been in their room. It was still rattling him now and he knew that whatever happened to her – it was going to continue to shake him to his core and be singed into his mind for the rest of his life. He didn't know how – if – he could go on knowing that he hadn't been able to save her. Knowing how badly he'd failed her and their son. He couldn't protect her.

"We're going to find her, Will," Amaro said. "Help us find her. What happened after he brought you back out to the bedroom? What happened after Liv was there?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"You have to talk to your Uncle John," May urged her grandson.

Noah had been sitting at the table in the squad room's longue in silence for almost twenty minutes. Longue was really a nice word for it. Though Noah would've been set in the room previously if the space was free and Olivia was trying to finish something up before carting her son home, Munch was sure that it wasn't lost on the boy that it wasn't actually a playroom. It was a more comfortable area to take victims and their families to talk while the Captain and other detectives looked on from the adjoining room. The sergeant was sure that Noah had also been in the Captain's office and see the window looking into the room too. The boy wasn't stupid. He wouldn't be. He was Olivia's son. He'd know that he was being watched and listened to right that moment by an audience far larger than just his hovering grandparents.

Munch pushed the piece of paper and the pencil crayons that he'd placed in the center of the table closer to the boy. He knew Olivia's son was a budding artist. He'd been graced with the little boy's drawings since the kid was a little boy. He knew too that the art therapy and the mediation techniques that had been taught to the boy while he was going through his cancer treatment had been heavily dependent on drawing and patterns and that steady movement of the art tools and colors across the page. But Noah wasn't showing any interest in the offered tools.

"Maybe you can draw me a picture of what happened," John suggested, "while we talk."

Noah shook his head from his examination of the table. His hands were sitting there so still but he seemed so fascinated with them. But John was sure he wasn't focused on much of anything. The sergeant, though, couldn't pull his eyes away from the bandages that were wrapped around the boy's wrists masking the fabric burns and bruises from his restrains. Looking at his wrists though was still better than trying to look at his face. On the occasions that Noah had glanced up at him rather than meet his eyes Munch had found himself gazing at the darkening marks on the child's neck and chin. The pattern clearly indicated that a muzzle of a gun had been pressed firmly into him.

Munch tried to tell himself that he'd done the job long enough that he could look past some of the brutality that was paraded in front of him. He'd always known he was lying to himself. He'd thought he'd needed a break from homicide when he'd come back to New York. He hadn't known when he'd joined Special Victims that it would be even worse – yet so horrifying it was near impossible to walk away no matter how much you tried. Instead he'd spent years trying to prefect his disassociation from the cases he worked. With age even that seemed to be getting harder so he'd volunteered to work on the cold cases instead. Still, things – cases, victims – continued to creep up that kicked him in the teeth. The ones with children were always the worst. But this was taking it to a whole different level. This was Olivia's son – and his colleague was missing and with a man that the entire squad room knew what he was capable of.

Looking at Noah, he couldn't help but think how grown up he looked in that moment but how small he looked. He couldn't help but see that near newborn that Olivia had brought into the squad room for show-and-tell that he'd got to hold. He didn't think he was much of a baby person – but it'd only taken him seconds to decide he was a Noah person. He'd watched the little boy grow up and fight through more trials and tribulations than any child should; he was of that opinion even in his line of work and all the other sad stories he'd seen, heard, worked and solved. He'd watched Olivia mature and fight right along with the kid. And, now he was having to look at them both as victims.

That wasn't a label he'd ever wanted to assign to them. He knew it was a label that Olivia would take issue with. Even during Noah's cancer treatment she'd always argued that her son not be treated as a victim. He was a fighter, a survivor – never a victim. Munch supposed in a way that was true that moment as well. Noah was still there. But they still didn't know what label they'd be giving his mother. Though, John knew that Olivia would still argue with being called a victim or treated as one – even now. He had to trust she was the fighter and survivor that he knew she was and that they'd be able to do their jobs in the necessary fashion, with the necessary expediency to not have any other labels falling next to her memoriam.

"I don't feel like it," Noah told him quietly – rejecting the offered art supplies.

Munch glanced at Noah's grandparents. The grandmother was near draped over the boy – almost at a smothering level. Meanwhile the grandfather looked stoic in his seated position on the opposite side of the child. But he kept gazing at the boy like his eyes might suddenly see what the boy had seen so he could recite it on Noah's behalf.

"You know … " John said and paused for a moment as he realized these people might take as much offense to the use of the word 'victim' as Noah's mother did. "Since Noah isn't a … suspect, we really don't need you to be here."

The grandmother gasped at that and looked at him completely horrified. Munch had only had very limited interactions with Olivia's in-laws. He'd met them at her wedding and of course, he knew of their family and their reputation. Or rather, he knew a lot of the backroom chatter and conspiracy hearsay about how they'd managed to establish themselves as a bit of a New York dynasty in the first responder community. As much as anyone who was barely even grey collar could be called a dynasty. That said, he was fully aware of who Olivia's father-in-law was and his shining but dying light in terms of the community's social consciousness as the city moved farther way from 9/11.

"We aren't obligated to have a guardian with him while we speak to him," Munch tried to clarify. He'd rather quickly caught onto – even without previous grumblings from Olivia – that the mother-in-law was high maintenance.

"Well, we aren't leaving him after everything he's been through," the woman shot back at him.

John sighed and looked at the table for a moment before gazing at the top of Noah's bowed head. "Sometimes we find children are more comfortable speaking to us without their parents – or grandparents – in the room," he tried and he saw the slightest move in the boy's head. He thought he might be able to connect with Noah if he got rid of these two. He already knew they were connected. He'd spent enough time – though limited – with the boy to know how to relate to him, to have earned his trust.

"Well, his father should be here then if you want us to leave," May pressed at him harshly.

But Noah really did shake his head that time. "No. Dad's upset," he said at a near whisper.

Munch was about to try to press Noah on that comment and use it in support to try to get rid of these two. The clock was ticking and the sooner they got Noah's statement the sooner they'd hopefully have more information to work with. Because at the moment with Will having apparently the majority of the assault and hostage taking unconscious, the child was really amounting to their only witness. Fin and the unis weren't having much luck collecting anything that resembled evidence at the scene. Or at least not evidence that gave any sort of indication on where Lewis might've taken Olivia.

He didn't have to argue with them, though. Barely a beat had passed before Cragen had opened the longue door and stepped into the room.

"Mr. and Mrs. McTeague, I think you'd find it more comfortable sitting in my office," the Captain said. "I'll have someone get you some fresh cups of coffee."

The mother-in-law sputtered again. "I really think we should …"

But the husband had interjected – cupping Noah's head with a hand that dwarfed it. "Noey's a grown boy, May," he said and stroked the child's hair before pushing out his chair. "He can handle talking to the sergeant on his own."

"But …" May had sputtered looking helplessly at the little boy.

The father-in-law had just held out his hand and glanced at the Captain. He was clearly a man who respected rank and authority. If Cragen was telling them to exit the room, he was going to listen. "Come along, May. Noey will be fine."

She just gazed at the little boy like she was hoping that he'd present a counter-argument and beg her to stay. But none came. She finally let out a sigh that really sounded more like a choked-back sob. But she leaned forward and brushed at the little boy's hair and pressed a kiss into it.

"We'll be right outside, Noah. In Captain Cragen's office. If you need anything. And, if you don't want to talk, you don't have to. Or if you need to rest," she told him.

The boy just nodded in a manner that was hardly visible. It was apparently enough to appease the woman, though, and she slowly allowed herself to rise and take her husband's hand who guided her out of the room. Munch turned and watched meeting Cragen's eyes briefly. His look was clear. The clock was still ticking and they had nothing. He needed to get Noah talking and see if he could remember anything that might be useful to them.


	14. Chapter 14

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

The sergeant looked back to Noah as the door closed. The boy still wasn't looking at him – or much of anything.

"So your dad was pretty upset, huh?" Munch tried.

"He cried," Noah said quietly.

"He was likely pretty scared," Munch offered. Noah just gave him the faintest shrug. "It must've been pretty scary." The boy just shrugged again. "You're very brave, Noah. I would've been scared."

The boy glanced at him. "Mom cried too," he said. "Mom and Dad don't cry."

He gave the boy a thin, sad smile. "We all cry sometimes, Noah. Your mom was likely pretty worried about you. And, I think your dad is really worried about your mom now."

"Is she going to be OK, Uncle John?" he asked at a near whisper but this time met his eyes in a way that nearly pierced Munch's heart.

John still remembered those eyes in him when he was just a little baby. There was so much life and knowledge in the kid even then. Even as a newborn the kid had had to fight for life and had been put through the wringer. But it had always struck him had the boy had had his mother's eyes. Not that he'd ever spent much time gazing at Olivia's eyes. But he'd certainly noticed since the kid had been added to her life. There was a spark there that really couldn't be ignored. A take-on-the-world attitude – or attitude problem – that he supposed had served her well over the years and was somewhat appropriate that she passed on to the kid. Still, looking into those same eyes as his colleague's now was playing with his heartstrings. Noah's eyes were glassing with his own tears and it made him wonder what Olivia's eyes looked like in that moment.

"We're going to find her," he said.

He didn't think he could answer the question if she was going to be OK. He suspected that Noah already knew that answer. It depended on how you defined OK. Were him and Will OK? Well, they were alive. He hoped he could say the same for Olivia when they found her. But he doubted she was going to be OK. Whatever happened, though, whatever the outcome – he knew that they were going to find her and bring her home to her family. Hopefully almost all in one piece and not in a body bag. He knew that no one in the squad room would be sleeping until that happened. So he could at least promise Noah that. They'd find her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"If you can tell me more about what happened, Noah," John tried, "it's going to make it easier for us to find her."

Noah glanced at him and only then pulled the sheet of paper over closer to him and picked up one of the pencils though he just scribbled in the corner – shading it with black – before dropping it back into place on the table.

"Why can't you just ask Dad?" he asked quietly.

Munch watched the kid. It was so agonizing to see a little boy he'd known for his whole life in so much pain and so scared. It hurt and scared John more not knowing what sort of outcome he was going to have to communicate to this little human being. The heartbreak that it would bring to the kid and his colleague's husband. The whole squad – if they failed Olivia.

"Well, Squirt, your dad was unconscious for a lot of the time the man was in your home," John said carefully.

"Because he hit him with the gun and kicked him in the head," Noah said even more softly.

"That's right," John agreed, though he made a small note of how the assault against Olivia's husband had happened. "So your dad has a bit of a concussion. So beyond not being awake to be able to tell us what happened – everything is a little foggy for him right now."

"Because his brain is hurt?" Noah asked looking up wide-eyed. "That's what a concussion is."

Munch gave him a thin, sad smile at that. "It is. But I think the doctor's said it's just going to be temporary. Your dad is going to be alright. He's just having trouble remembering."

"Mom's going to be mad that Dad's brain is hurt," Noah said and looked down fingering at the piece of paper again. "She says dad has a 'beautiful mind.'"

Munch allowed himself to smile a bit more at that even though it was hard. He liked Olivia's husband. He thought he likely appreciated the man and where he came from more than other people in the squad. He hadn't given Liv as much ribbing about the guy when he showed up on the scene. Though, Will McTeague definitely ran contrary to other men he'd seen Olivia with over the years. He wasn't a lawyer or a businessman. He didn't dress or act like a rich man. It wasn't until you actually started speaking with him that you realized how educated he was. Munch liked to think of himself as smart – though, he didn't carry the degrees and the fancy education that Will did. Will took smart to a different level. He was frighteningly intelligent. Somehow that really didn't seem like Olivia's type. Add in the fact that Will could talk about just about anything – especially areas that Munch found interesting. Olivia hated that. Not that she let Will come up to the bull pen often. But if she did, she always seemed to make a point of keeping them apart. Not that always stopped them. Munch could banter on to Will for an extended period of time and the man could keep up.

He thought he understood Will. Munch knew was it was like to be a little different. He could see some of himself in Will. Tall, lankly, big ears. Too smart and too opinionated for his own good. He knew what that likely meant for him growing up. He knew too what it was like for people not to take you seriously because of some of your areas of interest. But he also thought he was the best fit he'd seen Olivia with. As much of a hard time he'd given her about the concept of marriage – Will was definitely someone for her to stick with, in John's opinion. But they hadn't had enough time together. If they didn't bring her home to her boy and her husband – their time together would've been far to short. That wouldn't just destroy her family. The self-blame that the squad was going to feel was going to be immeasurable.

"Your dad is a very smart man," Munch agreed. "But I think your mom is really with him because he's devastatingly handsome," he offered in a light tease.

Noah looked up at him with the smallest glimmer of the weakest smile. "That's what she says about me …" he allowed.

John let that sad thin smile pull tight across his fine lips again. "Your mom knows her stuff," he said.

Noah gazed at him silently but then returned to gazing at the table.

"Was the man already in the bedroom when you went upstairs Noah?" he pressed trying to wedge his way in while the boy's resources had allowed a crack to show. Noah shook his head. "Where was he?"

"The door wasn't closed right," Noah said quietly. "I was going to close it for Mom and Dad but then he was there. He had a gun and he said to be quiet and then he put his hand over me mouth. Really tight."

"This was in the bathroom?" Munch asked and Noah nodded. "What happened after that Noah?"

"Dad came upstairs," Noah said softly. "I'm not supposed to use their bathroom. But that's where my bathing suit was. But if I hadn't gone up then he wouldn't have caught me and then he wouldn't have caught dad and he wouldn't have taken mom."

Munch leaned forward across the table and lowered his head until he caught Noah's eyes. "It still would've all happened, Noah," he said flatly but firmly. "It just would've happened differently. It's not your fault."

"But Dad's head's hurt and Mom's gone …"

"That's not your fault," Munch stressed a bit more firmly. "That's the man's fault. But we're going to find him and we'll punish him."

"How?" Noah asked.

"He's going to go to jail for a long, long time," John said.

Noah looked down. "So he won't be able to hurt Mom anymore?"

Munch examined him again. Nothing had been said yet to indicate that Olivia had been hurt while she was still in their apartment. They'd been trying to protect Will and Noah as much as possible from the reality of what the Beast was capable of. Especially Noah. But he supposed the boy wasn't stupid – at all. And, he had witnessed his father be hurt. He had been hurt himself. Even if Olivia hadn't been hurt in the bedroom, it wouldn't take much inference for Noah to realize that his mother was likely in direr danger in the clutches of that man.

"Did your mom get hurt in the bedroom, Noah?" Munch asked, looking for assurances. Looking for any more information they could use. Any idea on if they needed to worry about her bleeding out somewhere? Internal injuries? Brain injuries? If the stabbings and branding and burning had begun in front of her son?

"Are Nan and Popa still listening?" Noah asked quietly.

Munch glanced behind him the slatted blinds of the Captain's office. He was sure that they likely had an audience. The Captain would either be listening to them or he'd be standing outside the window of the interrogation room listening to Amaro's effort to get a recollection of events from Will. Even if the Captain wasn't there, though, Munch really doubted the boy's grandparents would've agreed to retreat out of earshot and retrieval reach of the child.

"I think the Captain was going to take your grandparents to get a coffee," he lied but hoped that Noah had heard that comment by Cragen and that it would be enough for him to proceed with whatever he wanted to say.

"Mom wouldn't want them to know," Noah said quietly and cast his eyes at the window too like he also knew they were standing there and was begging them to leave.

"Your mom wouldn't want them to know what?" Munch asked.

Noah looked even more down at the table. "I don't think she'd want me to tell," he said with some clear shame in his voice.

"Noah," Munch tried, "your mom would want you to tell."

Noah glanced at him and traced his finger on the table and again cast his eyes at the window of Cragen's office. "Mom thinks I don't know what a blowjob is," the boy said a barely more than a whisper.

Munch watched him and then sat back in his chair a bit while he processed where that statement was going. He'd heard so many stories of forced oral sex in his career. But knowing his colleague – a woman he'd known since she was little more than 30 years old, a kid in the squad room – would've been forced, presumably by a serial rapist and in front of her young son? It hurt him in a way he wasn't quite prepared for. A way that he didn't think he'd ever be prepared for.

"But you know," Munch allowed and leaned back onto the table. "You're almost nine," he said. He was invited to Noah's birthday party for the coming weekend. He'd been to so many of the kid's birthday parties over the years. He had a novel picked out for the kid and a Lord of the Rings Lego set. They were already wrapped – even though Olivia disapproved of guests bring gifts. "Kids talk at school," he allowed.

Noah gave a small nod at that.

"Did the man make your mom perform oral sex on him?" Munch asked carefully.

Noah shook his head. "He said she had to do it to Dad. But then he kicked Dad and he took Mom. I thought Dad was dead and Mom was crying and yelling."

Noah looked up at Munch. "He didn't call it a blowjob," he said softly and looked away embarrassed. "He said Mom had to take Communion. He said I'd kill for it one day."

John felt himself let out a deep breath at that. He thought of Lewis' last victim and what had happened to her.

"Uncle John …" Noah started quietly and then met his eyes "… is he going to kill my mom? … For it?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"But she didn't actually …" Nick started but Will let out a sigh and looked up at the ceiling, effectively cutting him off from finishing his sentence.

Amaro didn't really get Will. He didn't really get Olivia and Will. Getting to know Olivia had been enough of a challenge. They had their good patches and their bad patches – and their all out rough patches. He'd put some effort into trying to get to know her family. She'd reached out at certain points to try to get to know his. But she also had a tendency to shutdown and putt he walls back up. He couldn't say he particularly blamed her given everything she'd been through with her son. Still, it had made it a challenge to build that sort of rapport with her – more than just work partners. Friends or at least colleagues.

Talking about her husband had definitely been more than off-limits. There'd only been a handful of times where she independently brought the guy up. And those times had clearly been when her husband had done something to severely piss her off and she was just looking for anyone to vent at. Sometimes Amaro ended up being the one closest to her on that particular day. But those moments were always short lived. Her husband – her relationship – it was off limits.

Nick didn't know Will well. Not at all. His interactions with the man had been limited. And the ones that did exit – it'd been more than apparent that McTeague wasn't a fan of his either. Nick just didn't get what Benson saw in the guy at all. He wasn't what he would've pegged as her type. A cop with an academic? Though the guy seemed to have about as much of a stick in his ass as she did half the time. Not that Nick was one to talk much about that anymore. SVU had definitely done some to get his back up against the wall about all kinds of things that related to his life, his relationships, his daughter, Maria and now Gil and his long lost ex too. He wasn't one to have a running commentary on other's relationships. Though he knew that other people in the squad were likely to say that didn't stop him from being judgmental about them. But he'd also been more open (however inadvertently) about his shit storms than Olivia ever was.

Still – this wasn't a shit storm she deserved. This was an all out disaster. He was beating himself up too. He should've stayed and talked to her that night even when she said she hadn't wanted to. He should've stayed and worked the case with her more. To try to figure out some other way to get Lewis. To try to figure out how he got in and out of buildings undetected. How he managed to hold his victims hostage for hours – days – unnoticed. There were so many things that could've been done differently that maybe would've had a different outcome. That would've ensured his partner – a woman, a mother – wasn't now in the clutches of this perp. Nick knew the kind of outcome that this might have. He'd be losing his mind if it was his wife. He'd be wanting to rip Lewis' head off if he'd touched his child and his wife. He wanted to kill the guy as it was and Olivia was only his partner.

"That's not the point," Will sighed out and then buried his hands against his temples like he was suffering a vice grip headache. Amaro wouldn't be surprised if the man was given the beating he'd endured and the apparent concussion he had at the moment. The guy winced and dropped the hand on the one side away from his swollen and batter eye and forehead. "We don't …" Will gestured but then sighed harder and looked at the table. "… Do that," he added with a quiet embarrassment.

It had only taken one case with SVU for Nick to learn that talking to male vics was usually some of the hardest ones to pull any information out of. It was a delicate dance of collecting information. Usually almost pussy footing around what had actually happened. Even talking about it seemed like it was infringing on their masculinity. If the vic wasn't comfortable with their sexuality – that usually made it worse. Nick knew his own adjustment to talking openly about the topics in the way SVU demanded had gone through its own learning curve. But talking to his partner's husband about what had happened – when he knew the kind of perp they were dealing with – was taking it to whole new levels. It was giving him glimpses of his partner's relationship and life – and sex life – that he knew she wouldn't be happy about becoming common knowledge in any other circumstance. She probably wouldn't be happy about it as it was. Nick knew he sure wouldn't like it. Even having his past relationship – his sex life, his illegitimate son – paraded for all to see in front of a judge had been a little much for him.

"But he stopped her before she had to … do anything …" Nick tried to suggest gently.

Will slumped back in his chair. "Yeah, he stopped," he mumbled but Nick could feel the seething anger there. "I couldn't get it up so he fucking beat the shit out of me and took my wife." Will sighed and looked at the reflective glass of the interrogation room window. "You don't get it," he muttered.

"We're trying our best to find her," Amaro said again. He'd had it on repeat. 'We're going to find her.' 'We're working to find her.' 'We're trying our best to find her.' He knew those assurances wouldn't be enough for him either.

"You have no idea what she's been through," Will near seethed at him at that.

Amaro met his eyes more firmly at that. He didn't like the guy's tone. Hell – he didn't much like the guy. But he was trying his best for Liv. This wasn't about how much he liked or disliked her husband. It was about finding his partner – hopefully breathing and in one piece.

"I do the same job as her, Will," he said evenly. "I see the same things day in, day out."

For some reason Will seemed to think that was funny and looked at the ceiling in his laugher. He sounded manic and by the time he looked back down to Amaro's eyes tears were streaming down his face.

"You have no idea," he said and shook his head and then glared at the window. "HE HAS NO IDEA!" He yelled at him and then pointed even more angrily at the mirrored glass. "YOUR CAPTAIN fucking sent her undercover to a PRISON – and she was ASSAULTED by a male guard. HE … HE …"

Will stopped and just pointed more angrily at the window until he dropped his arm and clutched at his side and his shoulders shook with silent sobs. When he finally looked back up to Amaro his face was covered with his tears – streaming steadily from his good eye and seeping around the swelling of his bad.

"You don't have any idea what that does to a person," Will near gurgled at him. "I don't care how long you've done this job. You have no idea. What that does to a person. To a relationship. The kinds of things we've had to work through. And now …" he near choked on a sob at that point. "And now … " he tried again "… some … some GUY … has broken into my home, traumatized my son and taken my wife. And you tell me … what is he doing to her right now?" He glared at Amaro at that point.

"Will …"

"TELL ME," Will yelled and slammed his fist so hard onto the metal table that it shook and Nick could see a shudder go through him in pain but he continued to hold his hand there clenched tightly.

"He's a serial rapist," Nick said flatly. "Liv was working his case. He got out on bail yesterday afternoon."

That just made the tears come down the man's face more but his hand came up off the table and rolled against his good eye – pressing into it while he lulled his head and shook.

Nick sighed and stood up. "OK, Will, why don't I give you a couple minutes?" he suggested. "I'll go get you some water."

"Just find her … just find her …" Will said and collapsed his head onto the table burying it into the nook of his elbow.


	17. Chapter 17

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Nick closed the door of the interrogation room and smoothed down his tie while he looked into Cragen's and Rollin's somber faces.

"Please tell me Munch is getting something out of the kid," Nick almost pleaded.

Cragen sighed and looked back in on Olivia's sobbing husband. He still hadn't brought his head up off the table but the shake through his shoulders and back was apparent even at that distance.

"Child witnesses aren't that reliable," Rollins interjected on the Captain's behalf.

"Yeah, but this is Liv's kid," Nick said and gestured over towards the Captain's office. "That's gotta count for …"

"He's a little boy," Cragen said a little harshly and turned back to the two detectives. "He's a little boy …" he corrected with a bit more softness and shook his head.

Nick sighed at that. "Well, I don't know how much more I can get out McTeague. The guy's a mess." He leaned his elbow against the window and looked at the broken man for a moment. "Has Fin got anything?"

"The scene is almost as much of a mess as him," Cragen said and eyed Will.

"Who's to say Lewis even said where he was going?" Rollins asked. "I mean, he hasn't before. It's not his M.O. He's too smart for that."

Cragen pounded his own fist against the window enough that it startled Will and he looked up, swiping some of the tears away from his face. "He had to have said something," the Captain barked. "He was there and upstairs for hours. He must've said something. They must've seen or heard something that would give some indication of what his plan was."

"Cap …" Rollins tried.

It was his turn to glare angrily at her. "We are not bringing home Detective Benson in a body bag. I am NOT having that notification conversation with that man," he said pointing through the window, "or with THAT little boy," he added jamming his finger down the hall.

"Well Captain I don't even know what to ask him at this point …" Nick said and looked back in. "The guy was unconscious – and even if he wasn't. He's teetering right now."

Cragen sighed. "Go get some of the evidence. Their personal effects. Some of the crime scene photos. See if there's anything missing. Anything moved. Out of place."

"Captain – with the state he's in right now … seeing pictures from the scene …"

"DO IT," Cragen barked.

Nick sighed and shook his head but retreated into the squad room. Rollins looked back through the window with Cragen. Liv's husband seemed to be calming himself but he still looked about the most wounded Rollins had ever seen him – and she'd gotten a glimpse of Liv and her husband dealing with some of their uphill battle with their son. She'd seen other husbands and fathers and brothers and boyfriends sit in that room. But at the moment something about Will's state seemed so much worse than anything before. Probably because she knew the vic. She liked to think she more than just knew the vic. And she was the one who'd brought Lewis in. She'd been trying to protect women – the city. She'd known something was off. She'd never thought about what she'd be bringing into her squad and their family's lives. She was just doing her job.

"The thing he said about Liv," Rollins asked after a few long seconds. "The assault?"

She didn't need to form the question anymore. She knew it was enough.

"Yeah," Cragen nodded – but then sighed and looked down. "But I didn't send her. She wanted to go. I told her she had no idea what she was getting into."

"Guess we didn't this time either …" Rollins said quietly.

"We should've," Cragen said a bit more sternly – and then looked at her firmly. "Go call Fin. I want that scene processed faster. I want those bodies in the morgue. I want the DNA evidence in the lab. I want CSU combing every piece of forensic evidence there is in those two apartments. No one is moving fast enough on this."


	18. Chapter 18

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"Why don't you take a look through your wallet again?" Nick suggested and nudged the evidence bag containing the wallet and some various identification cards that were collected from off the floor of the bedroom back across the table.

Will rolled his forehead against his hand and just kept gazing blankly at the table. "I don't need to look at it again," he mumbled. "I already told you. He took my licence and the cash that was in there is gone. My credit cards are still there."

Nick nodded. "OK. How much money did you have in there, Will?"

He sighed hard. "I don't know. Maybe $60. Not much."

"What about Liv's purse?" Nick tried and pushed it back closer to his partner's husband but he seemed to recoil at that. Looking at the bag almost with a panic.

"It wasn't even in the bedroom," Will spat at him. "Where was it? Did he even go downstairs? Did he take her through the front door? Is that what Noah said? How the hell did someone not see them if he took her through the front door?" he demanded.

Nick didn't answer. They had some idea how he'd taken her out. Noah had told them enough that they knew they'd exited the apartment through the secondary exit on the upper level. That hadn't been when they'd left the brownstone, though. And, their eventual exit wasn't through the front door of their apartment but unless Lewis had come up with an even more vicious way to transport Olivia than they imagined – they likely exited onto the street and would've been visible to passerbys and onlookers for at least several minutes. Not that they'd found a witness among the neighbors yet that were able to provide much information. Whatever had happened had early happened in the middle of the night – on what was usually a quiet, residential street.

"Why don't you just take a look through the purse?" he suggested again.

Will sighed and looked at the bag, drawing him a bit closer to himself and fingering at the straps. Nick wasn't sure he was going to open it and look inside it but slowly the man did. There was a hesitance in him. Nick tried to read what might be going through his head. He tried to imagine what sort of things he'd think about if asked to go through his wife's handbag. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to pinpoint anything that was missing in it. He wasn't sure he was even sure what she kept in it. Though, he'd gotten himself in trouble by going through Maria's things behind her back and without permission before – due to his own trust issues. He suspected that Olivia had just as clear and stern boundaries with her husband about her space and her work and things he was to keep his nose, hands and eyes away from. He wondered if her purse would've been on that list.

Will's hands moved some items around in the bag and then he sighed and shrugged at Nick. "I don't know what you're looking for," he said. "I wouldn't even know what's missing. I don't make a habit of going through my wife's purse."

"What about her keys?" Nick suggested.

Will let out a slow breath but seemed to know where her keys would be and popped a snap on a compartment and pulled out a set – holding them up for him to see.

"What about your keys, Will?" Nick said. "Where do you usually leave them?"

He watched as the man's hand went to the pocket of his pants and patted them – like that was about the only place they could be, but sighed.

"I don't know," he said flatly.

"You don't know where you usually leave your keys?"

He must've taken it as an accusation and anger flinted in his eyes again. "I set them down. The ledge of our entrance bench. The sill of our kitchen. Our dressing table." He let out a slow breath. "Olivia …" he shook his head and there was that crack in his voice again before he looked up at Nick his eyes looking more glassy now than angry. "She always is finding them in the morning for me. She … does morning routine and breakfast … usually … when she's home. She puts them next to my coffee. She's always … at me about it …" He looked down at the table like he was even more embarrassed and disappointed in himself.

"Do you think they were in the bedroom last night?" Nick pressed.

Will rubbed at his head more. "I don't know," he said weakly. "Maybe. I went up and got changed when we got home. Maybe. Our dresser? Maybe."

"What'd time you get home Will?" Nick asked.

"Ah …" Will shook his head. "Five forty or so. Maybe. I'm not sure. I left the office a bit later than I was supposed to. I'd gotten a text from Liv on the way to pick up Noah from his after-school program that she was going to be running late too."

"Did you go into the bathroom at that point? The one upstairs?"

He sighed and slouched back into the hard chair more gazing at the ceiling like even these simple sequence of events was asking him to push into the dark corners of his memory. "Likely," he allowed but shook his head. "I probably took a leak."

"And you didn't notice anything out of place in that room at that point? The door ajar?"

Will let out a longer sigh. He looked at the ceiling again and Nick saw another tear trail down his one cheek. The man swiped at it before he lowered his eye back to his. "No. Not that I remember. But I was probably distracted."

"Why were you distracted Will?"

He shook his head more and looked at the table before clutching his one arm to his battered side. "Lots of reasons. We were running late. I wanted to get Noah fed before taking him to swim team. There's … shit … going on at work." He shrugged. "Liv's been at work so much lately … I might as well have been a single parent. We'd argued a bit when I was seeing her. When she did come home. Her hours. How long it would take for her to close this fucking case. I was busy. I was stressed. I wasn't … looking for anything out of place in our fucking apartment."

The tears started to run more freely at that and he jammed his hand into his good eye again clearly trying to stop them. Nick didn't want to have the guy dwelling on any spousal arguments he and Liv might've been having lately. He knew what a distraction that could be on the job – and what a strain it could be on family life. The man was clearly beating himself up enough for not protecting his family. He didn't need McTeague adding more layers of regret and guilt to it.

"OK, Will, who else has keys to your apartment?" Nick tried to divert him.

McTeague swiped at his eyes more and tried to focus at the detective across from him. "Ah … no one. Really. My parents," he offered. "A family down the street. Their teenaged daughters babysit Noah for us sometimes."

"What about the other tenants in the building?" Nick asked.

Will gave him a funny look at that. "No," he said with a firm headshake. "The landlord. But not Jeff or the Carmichaels."

"Do you and Liv have the keys of either of the other tenants?"

Will's look got funnier and more concerned. "Why?" he asked.

"We just haven't located your set of keys on the scene Will. We just want to know what other buildings and rooms he might have access to with them – if our suspect took them," Nick partway lied. There was some truth to the statement. But it wasn't the whole truth.

"Umm … yeah …" Will seemed to accept that answer. "We've got keys to the Carmichaels. They're older. Their children don't live in the city. They want to know someone can get in if something happens or they need help. They go on a cruise every winter. We take up their mail. Water their plants. Feed their cat."

"Those are the tenants in the unit above you?" Nick clarified.

Will nodded. "Yeah."

"And their keys are on your key ring?"

"Yeah," Will nodded.

At that moment Nick was almost glad that McTeague seemed so out of it and confused. For all he heard about how intelligent this guy was the pieces didn't seem to be falling into place for him in that line of questioning. But Amaro didn't necessarily think that was a bad thing. The reality of the already direr situation likely didn't need to smack him in the face more. It would only increase his panic.

"What other keys are on your key ring, Will?" he pivoted the line of questioning.

"Ah …" Will shook his head and looked at the ceiling like he really had to think about that. "My office. My parents' house."

It was like saying that might've sparked something about the potential of those keys and his jaw suddenly dropped.

"Oh my God," Will said and his eye snapped back to Nick's.

Amaro just held up his hand. "Hey now, Will, your parents are right here with you and your son. They're safe. And the chances of our suspect knowing what any of those keys are for …?" He shrugged. "Slim."

"But he could've made Liv tell him," Will protested. "Oh my God. My brothers … their families … they live right next …"

Nick held up his hands in a mea culpa again. "It's OK, Will. We sent some unis to check on everyone. Everyone's fine. We've got a car outside their houses. I was more wondering if you had the keys for any sort of vehicles on your key ring," he said.

Will seemed to let out a bit of a sigh of relief, though Nick could see him eyeing the mirrored window again. They might be reaching the point where they needed to give him another break. Let him see his son and his parents to assure him they were there and safe. Let him call down to his brothers. Amaro didn't need to be out in the bullpen to hear the chatter to know that because of who McTeague's family was – and his brothers in the FDNY – that word of what was going on with an NYPD detective had likely spread far and wide at that point. Messing with the NYPD was a dangerous line to toe. But messing with the McTeagues? Lewis likely didn't know what he'd gotten himself into.

"Ah … no … I don't have car keys," Will said, still gazing at his own bruised reflecting in the mirror across from him.

"What about the Carmichaels? Do they have a vehicle?" Nick asked. He didn't really need to. They'd already run them and hadn't found a vehicle registered in their name. They hadn't had any reports of stolen vehicles within a reasonable radius of Liv's brownstone. Lewis must've had her in something? A bag? A box? And completely incapacitated to have gotten her out of that building unnoticed? Or had he made her go quietly and willingly? Lewis had managed to pull the wool over the Captain's eyes when he'd gone to the door of Alice Parker. Lewis had already been in the midst of torturing her but Cragen still hadn't managed to detect that anything was awry with the woman when she answered her door. He knew the Captain was still beating himself up over that. It would be that much worse when it was Benson who was in the guy's clutches.

"No," Will shook his head but then looked at Nick with a bit more concern in his eyes. "Has anyone checked on them?"

Nick gave him a weak smile. He wasn't going to get into those details with him. He wasn't obligated to. He couldn't discuss the details of the investigation with him. And, he just didn't want to. He'd leave that up to the Captain – if he decided it was a necessary conversation to have with him before they got sent back to the brownstone, whenever that happened. The building was going to be a cornered off crime scene for a while.

"We've got lots of people on the scene, Will," he provided in a half assurance. "We're knocking of the doors of everyone on the block."

That must've been enough of a distraction. "Because someone must've seen something?" Will said. "For them to leave the apartment?"

Nick gave him a small nod and an even thinner smile. "That's what we're trying to figure out," he said. "How he took her out of there? Where they might've gone? How he could've transported her?"

"People park on the street every night," Will interjected. "Someone's car must've been jacked."

Nick shrugged. "We don't have any reports of a stolen or missing vehicle in the area yet."

Will rubbed at his forehead clearly frustrated with that answer. "Maybe someone just hasn't come back for their car yet? Maybe they think it got towed? They forgot to move it?"

"We're looking into it, Will," Nick offered and again nudged his wallet across the table. "Why don't you just take a look at your wallet again?"

Will made a more frustrated sound but actually picked up the evidence bag this time and pulled it out. "I don't know what answers you expect me to find in my wallet," he mumbled.

"Your son told us that the suspect went through your wallet," Nick said flatly. "So we're hoping that you might see what he was so interested in."

Will let out an annoyed huff. "My money," he spat. "I told you. He took my cash and my driver's licence."

"OK, Will," Nick tried to sooth. "But why don't you go through it a bit more carefully? Each slot? Each compartment?"

"I am," Will muttered more as he ran his thumb over the cards that were still in there and shoved his fingers into some of the back compartments. "Hmm…" he said and jammed his finger in a bit more.

"Is something missing?" Nick asked and sat up a bit straighter.

Will had turned the wallet and was sliding his finger into a back slot with even more conviction, looking down into the dark space before glancing up at Amaro.

"My picture's gone," he said flatly and looked back into the slot like he was suddenly expecting it to materialize.

"What was the picture of?" Nick asked – though he didn't need to. He knew what pictures men carried in their wallets. He carried his own.

"Of Liv and Noah," Will said quietly still examining the wallet now more carefully. "The three of us."

Nick nodded. "Was it an important picture to you? To Olivia?"

Will shrugged. "It was just a picture," he said flatly. But Nick knew too that no matter how much a picture was just a picture – to the carrier of it there was some importance. It may not have been a particularly special moment when it was snapped but it had become special enough to be carried with you day-in, day-out for sometimes years. It was the people in it who were special – important. And now that it was missing whatever that particular moment was was likely suddenly become much more important to Liv's husband – especially given the potential outcomes that lay before them. Whatever had been in that picture could be a nagging memory for the rest of Will's life. Another loss on top of a loss. A smiling, happy moment in time that he wasn't likely to see again in his family for quite a while.

"Where was the picture taken?" Nick asked. At that point any point of reference however obscure and insignificant might mean something. It might give them something to work with.

"The ferry," Will muttered.

"The Staten Island ferry?" Nick asked.

"Yeah," Will nodded. "Just some weekend going to my parents." His head snapped up again at that.

Nick again held up his hands in reassurances. "We've got unis outside the houses. Your parents are here. Your brothers' families are out of the buildings. Everyone's fine."

Not everyone. He knew that. But he hoped Will might miss that turn-of-phrase.

"But do you think he's taking her to Staten Island? Because of the picture? Because it's where I'm from? My parents?"

Nick shook his head. But he knew that outside the door behind him that whoever was looking in on the interview would've made note of that piece of information – that potential location – and there'd be further mobilization going on. It wasn't specific – and it may mean nothing. It was more likely that Lewis just wanted to have a piece of Liv's family to continue to wag in front of her during her continued torture. It wasn't likely that it would be where he took her. If it was Staten Island wasn't exactly narrowing down their search options.

"Staten Island is a long way to go when he's got a vic ... ," Nick said without thinking. He hadn't wanted to refer to Olivia as a victim in front of her husband even though they all knew she was that at that point. The question was really how much of a victim she would've become by the time they were able to locate her.

Will looked at him with a sorrowful eye at the comment but instead he looked back to the wallet and tossed it to the center of the table. "My Zip card is gone," he said.


	19. Chapter 19

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Rollins hit her hand against the wall and looked excitedly at the Captain. It was the first twinge of relief and excitement she'd felt in the case since it'd been called in. It might be their break. They might be able to use this to find Benson. If Lewis had been stupid and desperate enough – or just too full of himself, thinking he could wriggle his way out of it – this might just be it.

"That's how he's transporting her," she gestured at Cragen.

The Captain just looked at her blankly. "With a zip card?"

She realized that terminology was likely so far outside of the Cap's realm of knowledge that he'd have no idea what Will was even talking about. At most he may have had a slight glimmer that 'zip' was related to something to do with computers and Will was a mathematician so maybe they were somehow connected that way. Either way in terms of transportation services it would mean nothing to him.

"Zip card," Rollins stressed again and gestured at Will in the room who was clearly explaining it to Nick too. "It's the access card. An electronic fob for a car sharing service they use. Olivia mentioned a while ago they use it. Thought it might be a cheaper option for with transporting some new furniture than paying for delivery and renting a truck."

Cragen looked at her skeptically. He clearly didn't think this was any sort of break. "Car sharing service?"

She sighed. "It's like a rental," she said somewhat exasperated. "It's membership based. You can take a car for like an hour. You have a fob. A Zip card that you use to access the cars. They're parked all over the city. You go pick it up and then you drop it off when you're done at another assigned spot. But it's all tracked Captain."

"It's all tracked?" Cragen spat back at her finally cluing into the potential of this breakthrough.

Rollins nodded and she felt herself already leaning towards moving away from the window. Sprinting into the squad room to start making her own calls. Getting any warrants necessary. Demanding the information needed from the necessary parties.

"Where you access it. How long you have it. Where you drive it. Where you park it," she said.

"So if he got Olivia into one of those cars …?"

"If he used their membership card to access one of those vehicles we can track where that vehicle is now," Rollins filled in in agreement. "Where it's been."

Cragen looked at her. "GO!" he barked.

Rollins nodded and bolted back to her desk, already pulling her cell put of her pocket to make calls before she even got there.


	20. Chapter 20

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

She staggered under the weight of her own body as Lewis dragged her into the residence. Her legs felt like lead after having spent what must've been hours in the trunk of the car. But the bruising and the burns felt worse and Olivia couldn't find the strength to straighten – letting the Beast hold her up almost solely by her arms confined behind her back as she tried to keep her footing and trudge forward.

It all felt so blurry. So woozy. He'd poured bourdon down her throat and vodka. It had burned and then left her in too much of a disoriented fog to even think straight. It'd been made even worse by whatever drugs he'd force fed her – both while she was conscious and un. It was taking so much energy to even focus on him – to focus on her survival. She couldn't think enough – could move enough – to even contemplate making an escape at that point. It was more of a question of just how to not end up dead.

At least she was alive. She thought. At least. It was better than some of the other people Lewis had forced himself on as he dragged her from stop to stop. Slowly collecting his instruments of torture – and he said her potential demise – but still taking the time to torture her and others along the way. More duct tape, rope, a soldering iron. She'd been made to watch as he used them on others. Binding, hanging, smouldering, smoking. The fog that hung over her being was almost a relief. As much as it was seared into her mind – as much as it always would be – at least there was some sort of curtain hanging over it. A division that she knew would make her more angry when this was over. That she couldn't see it clearly. That she couldn't react. That she couldn't help. That they had been wounded. They'd died. She hadn't saved them.

Will's keys had been his weapon against her so far. Keys to get them to his next victims. Keys to get them out of the brownstone. Keys to get him their escape. And now keys to singe her with. The marks on her arms. The singing for her hair and the lost chunks. The sound of them as he dropped them into the iron cast pan and heated them. The glow of them as he held the soldering iron against them. For now it was the keys leaving distinguishable marks against her body that she knew would kill Will if he wasn't already dead. She told him all the time that one day he was going to lose his keys. Neither of them had ever expected he'd lose them in quite this way and that they'd be left with a lasting reminder of him not having placed them on their hook inside the closet door. It almost made her want to beg that he press the soldering iron into her skin rather than to continue with the metal of the keys to her own apartment, her in-laws home, her husband's office. Bits of the family she'd created for herself scarring her in ways that would never fade.

He'd hardly touched her yet. Beyond the keys. Not compared to what he'd done at their previous stops. Not compared to what she'd had to witness. Not compared to what she knew he'd done in the past. But he'd also told her that they'd barely just begun. She'd already asked him to shoot her. Somehow the thought of being shot seemed more manageable. She'd been shot before. She knew what to expect the pain, the panic, the shock, the fair. He'd clearly told her that was her end game. They weren't near that point yet. He was still looking for his safe house, she knew. Still looking for where it would be her turn for him to put her through what he'd already done to too many others.

Still, he had touched her enough. He'd said enough. She wasn't sure how much he'd really touched her. He'd drugged her enough and hit her hard enough that she'd spent time unconscious. She'd woken to find herself strip of her one layer of top – down to a tshirt. The cigarettes that she knew he burned victims with and that so many man – smokers - sucked on after getting off where smouldering in the room. But she was dressed. She kept telling herself she was dressed. She didn't know how much difference that made.

He had touched her face. Swiping her hair away from her face like a man would as he gazed into her eyes. Her big beautiful brown eyes, he'd said more than once. He'd wanted a smile. Her mind reeled so much at each touch. It almost instinctive went to how Will would brush her hair away from her face – tucking it behind her ear for her – after their kissing, after their love making as they looked into each others eyes. Will's assertion that her son had her eyes to the point that looking in Noah's made him feel like he was gazing into her soul as well. How much her and Noah shared the same smile that she knew she didn't share with anyone often enough. It was hard to smile.

But she didn't want to think of Will while she was with this monster. She couldn't bare to let her mind go there. She couldn't bare process if her husband was dead or alive. His body had seemed so limp and lifeless after Lewis' booted foot had impacted with his skull. She hadn't been able to hear or detect any breathing coming from him in the seconds she'd had over his crumpled body before Lewis had pulled her away. She was trying to tell herself that a single kick couldn't have killed him. It would've had to have been too precise to have achieved that. But still the implications it could've had for Will's head, brain, neck and spine? She wasn't in any state to process it even if she could bring focus to her head.

The reality was, though, if he was alive, he was in far better shape than the others they'd encountered. Not that that made it any easier. She knew that part of the torture had been for her to wonder the state of her husband and to know she'd left her son tied to a bed to struggle against his restraints in utter fear.

Olivia had told so many survivors over the years that they'd done everything right – that they'd lived, that they'd survived. She already didn't know if that was true anymore. She kept telling herself she had to find the strength to get through what was coming. That she could manage it. But she'd already seen so much. She was hurting so much. She couldn't imagine going back home feeling this broken. Going home to find Will dead and her son scarred in a way she wasn't ever sure he'd really recover from. Yet she couldn't imagine leaving Noah to recover from this on his own either. Lewis was taking everything from her. Her little boy that she'd waited so long to have. Her husband that had taken 39 years for her to find. Her career of supposedly helping victims being called into question as she, herself, became one and everything she'd ever said and promised to all those women seemed to fade into the background and emerge as utter lies and platitudes.

Lewis had run his hand up her thigh – caressing its insides and cupping his fingers against her crotch before gripping in roughly and spreading his hand over her pelvis and then running his hand up to her breasts. But she'd squirmed the most while he caressed at her inner thighs with that light touch. It was almost like he was trying to be gentle and sensual – not the Beast they both knew he was. And her body had reacted. It reacted in a way that was horrifying to her and made her twist against his touch and try to close her tied legs even more. He liked that, though.

"Don't be shy," he'd told her. "We're way past that."

He'd told her she'd be so sweet while she was unconscious. It terrified her that she wasn't remembering everything. She hadn't been aware of what was being done to her body.

For so long now it had only been her husband who had touched her. Only her husband that she gave her body to. And Will made no secret how much he liked her legs. How much time he'd spend in his own gentle touching of them as he played at her arousal. But now her body was reacting to a monster's touch. It didn't matter how many times she'd told others that a body naturally had reactions, arousal even, to certain kinds of touch. It didn't matter that she knew it was scientifically and atomically true. It made her squirm and her skin crawl. It made her want to vomit and cry. Lewis was taking something else from her. She knew she'd never be able to truly feel and enjoy her husband's hands play down her thighs to tickle the back of her knees or to stroke at her sex ever again. She wouldn't even be able to think about it without seeing his Beast leering at her on his waiting haunches.

She kept trying to mentally prepare herself to be raped. She kept trying to accept its inevitability. She kept trying to force her mind to go somewhere else. To tell herself what she would focus on and think about while it was happening. While his mouth was against her body. While he was inside of her. While his hot breath was against her and his smell flooded over her entire being. But all she could focus on and think about was the broken women her mother had been. The endless string of women that came through her squad room with the lost, distant eyes and broken spirit. Women who never were able to move on or pick up the pieces. It didn't matter how much she preached counselling and that surviving the incident being the hardest part – how it was going to get better. She knew it only got so much better. It only ever faded so far into the background. She knew that from Sealview and at the moment she thought she'd take the violation of that forced fellatio – the humiliation, the beating, the fear – over this. She'd gladly drop to her knees and take Harris into her mouth now to have someone shake her awake and tell her this wasn't actually happening. To save herself and her family from something that would eat at their souls and redirect their lives for whatever was left of them.

She felt her eyes glass at the thought of it. The thought of her small son who barely nine would now carry this with him. The thought of him having a mother that now looked like the mother she'd had. Him without a father when she'd strove so hard to ensure he'd have one – and such a loving, kind, involved one. She'd brought an agony to her family – her son – like she'd never imagined possible. It was her fault.

"Are you crying?" Lewis demanded at he tossed her into a chair.

Her back and tailbone screamed at that movement. She tried to remember if he'd done something to her. To push past the drug-induced fog and remember if the hot keys had pressed there, if he'd hit her, if he'd pressed his arousal against her violently or if he'd gripped her until she bruised. She told herself that it was just from being in the trunk. The cramped muscles and spine in the tight space. The start-and-stop movement and bumpy ride causing her battered body to beat against the hard interior.

How many times had they stopped while they were in the car? She'd tried to focus. Counting the times it came to a stop. Trying to feel the movements as the car made turns or emerged onto highways. She tried to listen for sounds that were clues where they might be. She'd felt the car come to a complete stop twice and the engine shut off. She'd heard Lewis leave and come back opening the back passenger door and tossing something on the seat. She'd tried to yell against her duct tape gag. She'd tried to struggle against her bindings and beat against the trunk – hoping someone would hear. Someone would come. No one had. She'd heard music and she thought she'd heard Lewis' voice in song. But the efforts she'd made to try to locate where they might be headed – to count the turns and the drum of the tires in calculating the miles – had been strained and they were already fading.

She squinted into the room. It was growing dark and it got darker still as Lewis stepped away from her and pulled shut the curtains. How long had it been now? Had it been 24 hours yet? If it had she'd likely have about a day left of this torture before he decided whether he was going to let her live or die. She thought he'd already made his decision. Lewis wasn't taking prisoners this time.

"Another drink?" he asked as he turned back around from drawing the blinds, picking up a bottle.

She could barely look at him. Her head just lulled as she tried to force herself to sit straighter and to be more alert. As much as she knew she had to another part of her just wanted it to stop. For it to be done. To let the drug and alcohol induced haze take over and to really lull her into oblivion. She wondered if he'd ever give her enough booze to let her die of alcohol poisoning – to let her choke on her own vomit. Enough drugs to overdose and just let her fade away. It sounded nice. Just darkness taking over. It sounded better than pushing through the agony of the coming hours or days. To fight – for what? Her son. Her son …

He held up the bottle and came and pulled a chair to sit across from her – watching her struggle to even sit and her push to maintain the consciousness that another part of her just watched to fade away. He smiled that teasing smile as he looked at her and popped the lid off.

"Want me to take the tape off so you can say yes?" he asked so evenly.

She somehow managed to nod and he rose like he was going to comply but then her gun came out of the back of his pants and pressed hard into her chin.

"One thing you scream again and I'll shove your own gun right down your throat," he added sternly before ripping the tape away.

He didn't need to wait for her to respond. They both knew she'd already screamed her vocal chords raw. She could barely speak even if she wanted to – let alone muster the energy and air needed to try to yell for help. She knew he wouldn't have her anywhere that she'd be heard anyways. He hadn't since they'd left the brownstone and even then crying out had been impossible. She wondered if Noah had been forced to listen to it or if the music had been loud enough that it had effectively drowned her out.

The thought of her son made her pull together the salvia that was in mouth and spit it at Lewis as the tape came away.

He squinted at her with some disappointment. "Like mother, like son," he muttered and swiped the spit from his face to lick off his fingers. His tongue playing against them like it was some sort of special treat and he wanted to get every last drop.

He leaned forward and grabbed at her jaw with an expert grip that forced her mouth open no matter how much she struggled. It made her fair what he'd be holding her mouth open next for – what he may have already done while she was blacked out. But for now he just poured more of the burning brown liquid down her already raw and aching throat.

"You better be careful," he told her as he righted the bottle, "one false move – and lights out."

She managed to shake her head at that. "That's what you think," she croaked.

He grinned more. "It is. I know what I want. It's coming baby."


	21. Chapter 21

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"Have you got her?" Cragen barked into the phone, answering it before it even got through its first ring.

"No Captain," Fin replied into his ear in a somber voice even for him. "But we've got another body."

The Captain sighed hard. "I'm putting you on hold," he said louder than he needed to and then paced out into the bullpen. Grabbing the line and hitting another button on the phone on the missing detective's desk. "You're on speaker. Tell us what you've got."

The other detectives looked up from the work as the hubbub the scene filled the room. Everyone quieted to hear word from the scene. They'd been hoping that tracking the car that'd been swiped out on the Benson-McTeague's account would lead them to Liv. But of course that would've been too easy. Instead it'd had lead them to a trail of other victims and mangled witnesses who'd barely been able to confirm that Benson was still alive. To increase their anxiety even more Lewis had also stopped at a hardware store to make some gruesome purchases and then picked up some 5-Crazies and other assorted bottles on another one of his apparent pit stops. All that before the car came to a stop and apparently had been sitting for hours now at a house in Elmont.

Over the speaker the cops on-site, the crime scene investigators and the forensic teams could already be heard in the background. It'd likely be hours more before they collected and processed anything that would give them enough clues about where Lewis had taken Olivia next. If he'd left any clues. It was more likely that he'd just left further evidence of her torture and the massacre he was leaving in his wake.

"Lewis was definitely here," Fin said through the phone's speaker. "Looks like the Tasmanian devil went through this place. Blood. Hair. It's everywhere."

The detective who really had seen it all between his years undercover with narcotics and now SVU. Fin didn't seem to have visible reactions to much of anything anyore. But he still seemed to pause on the phone after that for a moment. Like he needed a moment to figure out how to break the next bit of news.

"We've got another pan on the stove here with keys left in it," Fin finally said. "It smells like burnt flesh."

"Son of a bitch," Cragen cursed under his breath.

Rollins and Nick looked at each other with eyes that didn't need any sort of words. They were failing her and they were failing her husband and son who were still sitting in the adjacent rooms trying to come up with anything that might lead them to her. Amaro scrubbed hard at his face before running his hands through his hair and leaving them resting on his head.

"OK," he said loudly and brought his hands down, gesturing even though he knew the detective on the scene couldn't see him. "Do we know if the blood's hers or the vic's?"

There was a pause and they could almost feel Fin moving back towards the victim's body and standing looking at them.

"I don't think it's the vic's," he said flatly. "She's hanging from the closet."

"Do we know who the victim is?" Cragen barked.

"It's kinda hard to tell lookin' at her," Fin said drily. "Her face is beaten beyond recognition. But I'm going to go out on a limb and say our latest vic is Lewis' attorney turned girlfriend."

"Vanessa Mayer?" Rollins asked with some shock.

"House belongs to her parents," Fin said, his pacing through the crime scene apparent again.

"Do we know where they are?" Cragen demanded. They didn't need a second set of Carmichaels on their hands at this stage in the game.

"Not here," Fin replied flatly. "We've got the rental car," he added. The breeze of him having moved outside blew in the speaker and more noise was audible. More officers sent to the scene on the expectation that they'd be rescuing a cop – not cornering off another area to send in the techs with their fine toothcombs. "More blood in the trunk. Got CSU testing it to confirm its Liv's."

"How much blood?" Amaro asked.

"Not enough that she's bleeding out," Fin replied with the faintest touch of emotion quivering there.

"So do we know how they left the property?" Cragen asked.

"TARU not got a lock on her cell yet?" Fin responded not answering the question. But Cragen also didn't reply to that proposal. If the location of her cell was giving them any answers yet – they'd be there too. The detective shouldn't have to ask.

"Her cell's off. It's still just going to voicemail," Nick provided.

Fin let out his own small and barely audible sigh. "Got a BOLO out on the parents' vehicle. Assuming that's how he's transporting her now. Driveway's wet but looks like there's fresh tire tracks outta here," Fin told them. "But got no news on that. The car hasn't been spotted on any bridges, tunnels or ferries"

"So they're … somewhere on Long Island," Nick spat out with some frustration and threw his hands up in the air turning back to the case board and just staring at it. He didn't know how much more he could look at it.

"He'd told his lawyer … before …," Rollins said with some hesitation but still stormed over to where a map was being projected onto one of their screens, "that he wanted to clear his mind. That he wanted to go to the beach."

"The beach?" Nick said even more annoyed and paced over to stand next to her. He pointed at the screen that was painted with the expanses of green foliage and the beige of the sand all surrounded by the dark navy of the ocean. "On Long Island? Which beach? North shore? South shore? The Bay? Do you have any idea how many beach houses there are on Long Island?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"The ceiling was moving," Noah said quietly.

Munch watched him as he considered that – and especially considered how to respond to that. Liv's little boy didn't know the details of what had occurred above his head while he was tied to that bed. As more and more information came in from the crime scene – the more he got to look at the photos and hear the lab results with each time he stepped outside of the longue and away from Olivia's son – the more Munch thought he could do without knowing it too.

For all the years he'd been thinking he couldn't do too many more years of SVU but how much he wondered if there really was a life after the NYPD when he was forced into retirement – he didn't know how he couldn't retire after this. He didn't know how he was going to be able to look into Olivia's eyes again. But he also knew how much support her and her family were going to need if they managed to get her out of this. He didn't know, though, if she'd ever be able to come back to SVU. After something like this? After what they knew Lewis had in the least put her through? Yet at the same time he knew Olivia would likely be back. Other things had happened that he thought would drive her away. There had been moments where he had wanted to sit her down like Cassidy and tell her that she would be better off leaving the unit. That there was more to life than this. Olivia, though, had learned – she'd found – the other aspects of life. Though she'd had to fight tooth-and-nail to get them. But she still kept coming back. Munch thought this time would be the same. Another part of him hoped though that the look he was seeing in her son's eyes – the look he saw in her husband's eyes each time he walked past and saw a broken man – would deter her. She needed to live if they saved her from this. He didn't know she could do that anymore with SVU.

"You mean you heard people upstairs?" Munch tried.

Noah looked at him – his eyes so said. "No. The music was loud," the little boy said. "The ceiling was moving."

Munch let out a sigh as he contemplated that. Noah must've known they'd gone up there even if he couldn't hear it. He didn't want to think about what the little boy would've been imaging would be happening above him as he saw the floorboards cause the ceiling above him to buckle. John knew that the apartment looked like a tornado had gone through it. The utter violence that had raged in there gapped at everyone who'd been in the room. The photos had been more than enough for John. He was glad he'd been left to hold down the fort in the squad room as what seemed like a grave situation only got graver as the cops arrived on site.

"Sometimes it sounded like screaming if it was quiet between songs," Noah added quietly and looked at the table. "Sometimes I thought I could hear Mom calling for help."

John sighed even more. He didn't know what he was supposed to be saying to Noah to try to make any of this better. He wasn't a counselor. And for all the lines he'd ever given victims and witnesses over the years – that was different. They weren't a colleague's child. He couldn't hand this kid a list of phone numbers and tell him to call one to try to get some help. He couldn't call children's aid or victim's services and have them come and deal with it. Even calling in the company shrink to talk to the boy seemed unfair. He knew Noah wanted to tell him again it was going to be OK. But he also knew each time he said it – and then each time the little boy asked if they'd found his mother yet – he was adding a new lawyer of disappointment and betrayal to the already damaged kid.

"You're sure the man didn't say anything to you Noah? About where he might be planning to take your mom?" John tried again.

"He took her upstairs," Noah said dejectedly. "Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael live upstairs and Freddie."

"Freddie?" Munch asked a little concerned.

"He's their cat," Noah said and looked at him. "Sometimes Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael let me bring him down and Mom lets me play with him on the patio."

John gave him a thin smile and a small nod – all the while thinking that that wouldn't be happening again any time soon. Or ever. He wondered how many more things wouldn't be happening again any time soon for the little boy. Or ever.

"What about if he said anything about where he might take your mom later?" Munch suggested. "After that?"

Noah shrugged and reached to pick at the slice of pizza that had been sitting in front of him as an offering for far too long. It had long ago gotten cold and the grease had that congealed orange look to it. John knew that if the kid wasn't interested in it before that it had now reached a new level of unappetizing. But they'd had the kid there hours now and he hadn't so much as taken a sip of water.

"OK," John sighed and sat back in his chair a bit. His ass and back were starting to protest the extended chat session with the kid. They were talking in circles. He didn't think he was helping the case much. He wanted to be there for Noah but wondered if he'd be helping him more if he was out in the squad working the case board and the phones rather than trying to pull bits of nothing out of an eight-year-old's mind. "Well how about we go over again anything the man said to you at all?"

Noah glanced at him and shrugged more. He didn't want to talk about it.

"He was there a long time, Noah," John pressed. "He must've talked to you."

Noah looked at him with sad eyes. "He said I had to be good or he'd hurt Mom and Dad. He still did though."

Munch gave him sad eyes and a small nod. "Sometimes we can't really trust bad men to keep their promises," he allowed.

"Or I wasn't good," Noah said quietly.

Munch leaned across the table again. "Noah – your Mom is going to be proud of how brave you've been. You are good."

The little boy's hunched shoulders just shrugged again. "Then he told Mom she had to be good or he'd hurt me," he whispered. "So then Mom tried to be good and he made her leave."

"Your mom was trying really hard to make sure that you and your dad were safe," Munch provided.

"But now she's not safe," Noah said flatly. "She's likely dead."

Munch shook his head at that and leaned forward even more in an attempt to get the boy's attention. "We've found people who've seen your mom, Noah," he said. "She's not dead."

"But you haven't found her," he said and cast Munch an accusing look. He hurt. The failure that was spreading through the squad room was now being cast on him by his colleague's little boy and the realness of it pierced him.

"We will find her," Munch promised again. He didn't know how many times he'd provided that false assurance now. "Everything you're telling us about things he said and did while he was at your house is helping us find her. Is there anything else you can think of?"

Noah let out a slow breath and his shoulders shrugged more. "He touched all my mom's and dad's stuff. Drawers you aren't supposed to go in. They're theirs."

"Yeah?" Munch pressed. "Did he see anything he liked? Say anything or ask you questions?"

Noah sat quietly for so long that the detective didn't think he was going to reply – his fingers rubbing restlessly against the table. But he finally looked up with a questioning look on his face.

"He asked if we liked the ocean. He said Mom must like the beach. That it would make her wet."


	23. Chapter 23

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"Hi Will," Rollins offered as she came in the door of the interrogation room and did her best to offer him a comforting smile. "Brought ya another old pack," she said and wagged the soft blue plastic at him, "and a sandwich."

He eyed her with the one good eye that looked disapproving but allowed a quiet, "Thanks", as she set the items on the table. He pulled the cold pack to him first and seemed to weigh it in his hand like he didn't quite deserve the modest reprievable from his pain. But he eventually raised his arm and pressed it against his face again. The guy's face was a mess and he'd only been stuck with the Beast for a few hours. It was an disturbing reminder of what they might be looking at by the time they found Benson.

"Don't want the sandwich?" Rollins tried.

She felt a bit like she was treating him like a suspect. So many times her default in the interrogation room was to try to become their friend. To become that pretty little blond girl that the guy just wanted to talk to. She hated doing that to Will – Olivia's husband – but she also knew (they all did) that she might have more luck luring some bit of information out of him than Amaro had.

Will was a bit of a flirt. Or he could be. Sometimes she didn't even get the sense that the guy even knew he was being flirty – or that he was being flirted with. It'd definitely caused some tension between her and Olivia when she'd first arrived on the scene. Like Benson hadn't disliked her presence enough. Apparently she'd looked at Will the wrong way or she'd looked at her the wrong way – and Rollins got the sense they'd both been in the dog house for a while. It was hard not to look at Will, though, on his better days. He was a handsome man – and he was smart and kind and funny. Rollins knew too well that the older detective had lucked out in managing to catch him. Not matter how weird or too-friendly-with-the-ladies he could be at times.

He wasn't in a friendly mood that day, though. And, again, Rollins didn't blame him. He was locked in an interrogation room away from his son being grilled about what happened and being asking some rather intimidate questions – all by a man that it was clear he didn't particularly like. Meanwhile his wife was still missing and the last time he'd scene here was while they were both being forced to commit sexual acts on each other, his son was being stripped and tied to a bed and he had a work boot connect with his skull – all by a stranger in his own home. Will knew that his wife was in for it. He'd likely rather be out on the streets looking for her himself than depending on their efforts. Rollins almost wondered in a manhunt by the McTeagues might be more effective than their efforts to locate the woman.

"I'm not hungry," Will mumbled – not looking at the sandwich and definitely not looking at her.

"You must be hungry," Rollins insisted gently. "When's the last time you ate?"

She knew it must be pushing 24 hours since he ate now. Likely the night before – unless they gave him something at the hospital. But somehow she couldn't see him stomaching anything there either. Or maybe they'd held off while they decided if he was going to need some sort of surgery and then at their insistence he be released so they could have him in for questioning. They could just as easily monitor his concussion as a nursing station could. Rollins couldn't decide if the hospital or the squad room would've been more comfortable for Liv's husband, though. Likely neither.

Either way it was clear he didn't like her gently prodding at all; his eye snapped in her direction in a glare. But it was just her usual attempt to try to be friendly in an interrogation room. Even in a holding cell. With anyone – whether it was a suspect, a prep, a witness or a vic. Or a colleague. Maybe he recognized what it was.

Rollins was sure Liv didn't completely turn off her interrogation techniques and years of cop instinct, that training and gut feeling, even in her home life. She'd once made a passing joke to the other detective that her son must hate to be on the receiving end of one of her interviews. Liv had dismissively snorted at that. Her guys didn't need to be questioned, she'd said. It never got that far. They got the look and the crumbled. Benson wished it was that easy with perps. Rollins, though, couldn't say she blamed Will and Noah to crumble under some of Benson's look. She thought she'd seen a variety of them and there were a few that made her take a few steps back and shut her mouth – at least for a couple seconds. You definitely knew when you'd crossed Olivia. But somehow she didn't think any looks the woman could give to Lewis would be enough to give him any kind of pause.

"I'm tired and I'm going out of my fucking mind," Will spat out at her.

She just gave him a small nod but looked down at the notepad she'd brought into the room. "Well the docs said not to let you shut your eyes for a few more hours," she allowed.

The hand holding the cold pack flopped loudly onto the table. "Do you seriously think I'm going to sleep?" he demanded. "While she's still out there?"

Amanda allowed him a thin sad smile and a slight headshake. "No," she said. "But you should eat."

"I'm not hungry," Will spat out more forcibly and this time reached to shove the sandwich across the table but then sighed. "As anyone given anything to Noah yet?" He asked and actually looked at her.

She nodded. "John took a slice to him a while ago."

Will sighed. "He doesn't eat pizza," he muttered. "He doesn't like the cheese."

"Ah," Rollins said and glanced behind her shoulder to the window hoping that someone was out there at the moment and might be overhearing it. "He didn't tell us. But we can get a sandwich or something in there for him?"

Will sighed louder and just shook his head and pressed the cold pack back against his face. "It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "He won't eat. He'll only eat for his mom. Since being sick … when he's upset … he'll only eat for Liv."

Rollins eyed him at that. It'd been immediately clear to her from the moment that Olivia had a son that she was a rock in his life. The glimpses she'd gotten of the woman with her son and family over the last couple years had only reinforced that. She hated to think what her absence would do to her little boy and husband. She hated more the role she'd played in bringing Lewis into all their lives.

She let herself shake her head a small bit – trying not to dwell on it – not right now. She was sure there'd be lots and lots and lots of time for that later. She gazed at her legal pad for a moment instead. The few notes she had on it to try to guide her conversation hardly seemed helpful – and she didn't know how much help she'd get out of him when she posed him the questions.

"So Will …" she tried to be casual. "Noah had said that the man in your apartment had asked him if you guys liked the ocean. Do you have any idea why he might ask that?"

Will made a sound of utter frustration. "The guy is clearly a fucking psychopath," he said without eye contact and with clear anger. "Why the fuck did he say anything? I don't fucking know."

Amanda tried to ignore his rage. "Noah said he was looking something when he asked. Any idea what that might've been?"

"How would I fucking know?" He demanded again and glared at her.

"Well do you have anything from the ocean … or the beach … in your bedroom?" she tried to rephrase.

"I don't know," Will muttered.

"Think Will," she tried to put to him more forcibly. She knew that Olivia was forcibly and stern with him. She'd seen in more than once. Maybe that was what he responded to? What he needed in that moment?

He put his other hand to his head and shook it. "I should be with my son. I'll talk to him for you," he said.

"He's doing real good with Munch," Amanda provided to him. "Why don't we just try to sort this out on our own in here. Anything from the ocean or the beach that you and Liv have in the bedroom?"

Will made a sound and let his hand come down to the table. "Yeah," he allowed. "She likes these …" he waved his arm up and down but then made another groan and gripped across his chest like he needed more support. "Frames," he said flatly. "We've got frames in the bedroom. She's got pictures in them. I guess a lot of them are from the beach. She likes the water."

"Yeah?" Amanda pressed. "What's she like about the water? A specific place she likes?"

He sighed. "I don't know. I guess a lot of our relationship has moments around … water. I don't fucking know."

Rollins just nodded. "OK. Tell me some more about that."

Will looked down like he didn't even want to think about it. "Our first … date … non-date … I took her and Noah for a walk in Riverside Park. We spend a ridiculous amount of time on the ferry going back-and-forth to my parents. Noah likes Turtle Pond. We took him there all the time while he was sick just to get out of the fucking house. I proposed to her on the beach. We went swimming with sharks in …"

"OK," Rollins stopped him for a moment. "Back up for a sec. What beach did you propose on?"

Will sighed. "New Smyrna. Florida," he said with a voice that was starting to sound so defeated and tired.

She nodded and made a note of it even though she knew that was a long way from Long Island. "Let's go back to those picture frames, Will. What beaches are in them?"

He shrugged. "I don't know," he groaned. "She does the frames. Picks the photos. Does the black and white thing. Gets them printed off. It's her thing."

"OK. Take a guess. What places has she been taking photos of?"

He rolled his eyes. "She's constantly taking photos of Noah," he put to her with stern eyes.

"Let's not think about pictures of Noah," Amanda suggested. "Let's try to focus on those frames and the pictures in them. I can get someone to bring them over for you? See if you can identify them that way?"

Will shook his head. "I don't want to see them," he near whispered.

"Then let's try to remember where the photos were taken," Rollins said.

Will sighed and gazed at the ceiling. "Florida. Hawaii. The Bahamas. Staten Island," he said flatly but shrugged as each location came out like he really was just guessing.

"What about Long Island?" Rollins suggested.

"Maybe," Will said but shrugged.

"You guys spend time out on Long Island?" she pressed.

Will shrugged again like he was really starting to feel like this continued question was reaching the point that it was beyond useless. "Yeah," he allowed. "We go out to some campground with my parents in the summer."

"Where?" she said, sitting up and looking at him likely far too anxiously.

He sat back in his chair as he tried to remember. "Fire Island?" he suggested and Rollins again glanced behind her shoulder to the reflective glass. "Ask them," Will suggested.

"There permanent trailers or mobile homes there?" she asked. The entire situation was making her realize just how little she'd gotten out of the city and explored the surrounding area so far during her stint in New York. Long Island and its environs were about as foreign to her as if Lewis had taken Liv up into the Canadian wilderness. Fire Island meant nothing to her.

"No. It's just tented sites," Will said with a headshake.

"What about a beach house somewhere out there?" she suggested.

Will literally laughed at that but looked at her with some more anger. "Yeah. We've got a small mansion out in the Hamptons that we've just neglected to tell you all about. Get out there every chance we get," he said with a clear sarcasm. "DO WE SEEM LIKE FUCKING LONG ISLAND PEOPLE TO YOU?" he near yelled at her.

Rollins just kept locked with his eyes. "Com'on now Will," she put back to him evenly when his raised voice dimmed. "It's me you're talking to. I'm on your side. Everyone out there is on your side. We all want to find Liv just as much as you do."

"Somehow I fucking doubt you want to find her just as much as I do," he said and slumped back so hard in his chair that he again winced as he jarred himself.

Rollins ignored the comment. She wouldn't argue with him that they felt the same way about Liv as her husband and child could. But she could see how much it was affecting the Captain. She knew Munch and Fin too had known Benson for years – working with her, watching her career, been there when her son had been born, seeing him grow up and go through cancer treatment, attending her wedding. They were hurting in all of this. Amaro left like he'd failed his partner and it was just raging under Nick's skin. Amanda knew the guilty and agony she was feeling too for the woman – as a woman, as a cop, as a co-worker. They were supposed to watch out for each other and they'd failed in that.

"You and Liv ever take a weekend getaway maybe?" she suggested instead.

But the suggestion just made Will laugh even more as he looked at her. "When the hell are we supposed to do that?" he said. "She's won't be any distance from Noah unless she can be to him and have him to a hospital in about 40 minutes. That's the same amount of time you guys are supposed to be to a scene after getting called in right? So … there's that. Can't go anywhere that she can't fucking respond to a call from fucking dispatch. Or a victim. Let's not forget them."

His anger and his distaste for her job was becoming more apparent. The cracks and tension in his and Liv's relationship were becoming more visible to everyone. Rollins had always placed Benson, and her success at establishing a family, up on a bit of a pedestal. A sign that it could be done. That there was hope for it all some day working out for her too. But she didn't think anyone had any delusions that maintaining a relationship with a cop was hard work and an institution that was usually ridden with divorce. Add in the realities of the Special Victims Unit and it was clear that no one in there had a good track record had maintaining a happy marriage. Still, whatever was going on at home in her relationship hadn't been something Benson had ever brought to work in any real way. There were occasional comments even more occasional vents about her husband – not nothing that suggested the daily challenges and strife that her and Will dealt with. Some of that now, though, was more than apparent. As guilt, fear, anger, regret, sadness, stress, rage tried to find ways to manifest themselves in Will it was becoming apparent to everyone that Liv's marriage had been far from a fairy tale. Her and Will definitely had their tensions and ongoing discussions.

Will seemed to have realized he having snapped, though, and looked down embarrassed. The both sat quietly for several seconds before he finally looked at her.

"You think he took her to Long Island?" he asked.

Amanda examined him. "We've got some evidence and sightings to suggest they were there," she allowed.

Will sighed. "We don't have any connection to there. Beyond the camping trip," he said. "I don't know why he'd take her there. What he would've seen in our bedroom that would've …" he stopped and his hand came up to his face again and he gapped at her.

Rollins widened her eyes at him, trying to encourage him to go on. "What?" she pressed.

He rubbed at his face. "A while ago …" he said, "she said we should look into renting a beach house for the long weekend." Will sighed hard at that. "I told her that I wasn't going to put all that work into looking for an available rental and paying all that money for her to then just have to bail." He looked down embarrassed again before returning sad eyes to Rollins.

"She's been in a work so much this winter," he said quietly. "Middle of the nights. Weekends." A tear trickled down his face. "She said that after Noah was better. It wasn't going to be like that anymore. She wasn't going to go back to work and let it be like that again. That she was going to be there to see her son grow up. But …" he shook his head and swiped at his face. "We've … fought about it … a lot … this winter. Spring." He sighed.

Rollins wanted to give him some sort of assurance that all married couples argue. But what did she know. She wanted to apologize to him for how much they'd been calling Liv in over the winter. For the role she'd played in that in the fallout with her sister and with getting shot and being off work. With the times and moments they'd all been benched and the workload had to be shuffled around to keep them all covered off.

"Did anything ever get rented?" was all she managed to put out there instead.

Will shook his head. "No. But she'd said she'd look into it and pay for it herself – since it was such a hassle for me," he said with a crack in his voice and his head hung. "A few weeks back she'd had a list of some properties printed out for me to look at. But I brushed it off. I wasn't going to get involved. Then this case …" he said and shook his head more. "She didn't mention anything more about it."


	24. Chapter 24

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Nick sighed and looked at the Captain. "Just because she was looking into a rental weeks ago doesn't mean that Lewis knows that," he said.

Cragen shot him daggers for the comment. "At least it gives us somewhere to start. Or do you have other suggetions on how we scour the whole of Long Island?"

Nick let out another noise. He was so frustrated. The ticking clock was only increasing his agitation. With each passing second he felt like it was less likely they were going to retrieve his partner in one piece. Too much time had passed already.

"OK," he said and gestured. "But who knows how many places she was considering? And beach houses? At this time of year? There's going to be whole areas that are near abandoned."

Cragen just shooved his hands further into his pants' pockets. "Rentals. They'd have cleaning staff headed out this week," he said quietly. "Start opening the places up for the season."

"Then why would he take her there?" Nick spat even more frustrated. "That's not a safe house."

"Or it's another body. Another victim," Cragen said with stern eyes.

Rollins came out of the interrogation room and closed the door behind her.

"How is he?" Cragen asked her. He somehow felt her perspective on the interaction with his detective's husband might be more insightful than Amaro's.

But Amanda just sighed and shook her head. "Not good," she allowed but then shrugged. "He's tired."

Cragen let out a breath as he watched the man through the window. He was fidgeting. He could see his knee beating up-and-down under the table in an anxious bounce. But every few minutes he'd seem to bounce it too high and jar himself. Stilling for a while before the involuntary movement just started again.

"We should give him a break soon," the Captain said. "Let him spend some time with his son. Maybe them being together will bring out some other memory. Noah will tell his Dad something he hasn't been able to tell us."

Nick tilted his head in acknowledgement of that order but there was also a disapproving look to his face. Like Olivia's two loved ones being together was going to do more to harm their hunt for her than good. But Cragen thought they were definitely at the point that they needed the security of knowing the other was there. The hurt in them both was pallable.

He looked at Rollins. "Call their credit card companies," he ordered. "See if she booked something he doesn't know about."

Amanda nodded and started to move but the Captain pointed at her in a further brainwave. "Call over to the crime scene too. He said that Olivia had a print out of rentals. See if they can find it. Or if Lewis took it."

It was Rollins turn to sight at that. "Captain, it was a couple weeks ago. I don't think Liv would still have some scraps of paper still kicking around …"

"Have you seen her inbox?" Cragen barked at her with a rage.

Rollins paused. She had. Benson didn't put a lot of effort into clearing her desk of items that she didn't think needed to be dealt with immediately. But this was work. She suspected there'd be a significant difference between how the woman dealt with pile up between work and home.

"OK," Amanda allowed. "But even if Lewis saw the list, Cap, it doesn't mean he's going anywhere on it. Munch says the guy's a savant. He works on instinct. I don't think he would've picked the circled cottage. That's too simple."

"IT GIVES US A PLACE TO START," Cragen near yelled again. There was a pause as he glared at his two detective's who weren't jumping to his orders fast enough. It felt like they were already settling into the envitably – the futilitiy – of the situation. They were giving up. Slowing down. They were tired too. But they weren't allowed to be. No one was going to rest until his detective was home – to her family. Sleep was for closed cases and this was far more than a case. "Get TARU over to their apartment too," he ordered. "I want their computers – all their electronics – gone through with a finetooth comb. I want to know every beach house she looked at. Every area she was considering. Every site she visited more than once."

Amanda just nodded – not further arguing with him on it – and headed back towards the squad room, though Nick stayed put. Examining the floor like he had more to say but he remained silent.

Cragen just glared at him. "You get on her computer here and see if she was looking anything up here. Have someone from TARU get over here to pick it up too," he said.

Nick sighed. "Captain, Liv wouldn't be doing that on work time."

"I DON'T CARE WHAT SHE WAS OR WASN'T LOOKING AT ON CITY TIME," Cragen did yell that time. "I CARE ABOUT GETTING A DETECTIVE BACK HOME. SHE'S YOUR PARTNER. MOVE."


	25. Chapter 25

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Nick tapped his knuckles against the interrogation room door before pushing it open on final time. Through the window he'd seen that Will had his head resting on the table. He didn't exactly look asleep. It more looked like he was gazing blankly at the one wall with glassy eyes. Still, Amaro figured it was likely the closest the guy was going to get to sleep for a long time and he felt a little badly to be disturbing him.

Will slowly lifted his head off his folded arms and squinted distantly at Amaro as his back straightened. It seemed like he was carrying the load of the world as his shoulders lifted – because in that moment he really was.

"We can get you out of here now if you want, Will," Amaro offered to him.

Will squinted at him more and asked the inevitable question that he knew the answer to: "Did you find her?"

Nick let out a deep sigh at that and placed his hands on his hips and looked at the ground as he tried to come up with a better way to answer that then he had been all day. Instead he shook his head. "We're still working on that."

Will just slouched back further into the hard chair. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. "Not until you find her."

Nick allowed a nod. He knew in a similar situation he wouldn't be going anywhere either. Though, in a similar situation the reality was he'd be out on the streets taking the matter into his own hands. But he supposed staying as close to the bullpen as possible was about the best Liv's husband had in his toolbox at the moment.

"Well, there's not really a whole lot more you can do here, Will," he tried. "We thought you might be more comfortable over at your parents'. We'll keep you posted."

"I'm not leaving," the man put back to him almost syllable by syllable.

Nick let another small nod at that but still gestured at door. "Why don't we at least move you over to the lounge so you can be with your son and parents?" he suggested.

Will gazed at him rather defiantly. There was a moment where Amaro almost thought it was humorous. He'd seemed a similar look too many times in Olivia's eyes. There was some humor in knowing that her husband – her life partner – could manage just as steely glares. He wouldn't want to be in the room when the two of them were having a stare down. He wondered who'd win. He suspected that most of the time it was Liv. That tended to be how it worked in most marriages anyhow.

The glare finally faded and Will moved to rise. As he winced and struggled to stand Nick realized that despite the nerves and fidgeting that were apparent in the man, he hadn't seen him up and pacing the room. With how he was moving now it was clear just how much he was hurting from the beating he'd endured. He wondered if maybe they should really confirm they were done grilling him and let him take his painkillers. Yet he somehow doubted that he'd agree to that until he knew the status of his wife either.

The man hobbled over to him and the open door. Clutching at his one side while also bracing his arm. Amaro noticed that the hem of his shirt had crept up in his sitting – sticking to the gauze and medical tape around his torso. But what his eyes really fell on was a giant bruise on his hip – tracing up his waist and curling around to his back. It was so purple it might as well have been black. So defined he knew it would've been photographed not to document the man's injuries but to use in identifying the treadmarks of Lewis' boots.

"Your shirt is …" he gestured. He didn't think the guy would want his little boy seeing just how much of a beating he'd taken and how much he was hurting. Though, he suspected the kid already had a good idea – he'd witnessed it - and he wasn't really sure how much Will was going to be able to hide some of it as they sat in a room together.

Will just glanced down slowly – almost like a zombie. Like it was taking him an extended period of time to process that comment. But his hand finally came down and righted the clothing and continued in his awkward limp through the door.

"We're just this way," Nick said and pointed through the squad room. He could go around but with the way the guy was moving it was likely best to take him the shortest route possible. Make the shortcut across the bullpen to get him into the lounge and back to what was left of his family at the moment.

The moment they stepped into the squad room, though, he realized that had been a mistake. Rollins had been supposed to wait for him. Wait for him to move Will. Wait for him to take to get Liv's family out of there – back home where they belonged. Where they could try to rest. Or they could at least try to get her kid to rest. But apparently she'd forgotten. Or she hadn't listened. Or she'd just gone in with guns blazing as she tended to do – much to Nick's sojourn. Only this time – like so many others, just like the Lewis case to begin with – it was going to have consequences.

Rollins was standing in the center of the bullpen giving a briefing to a group of unis and plain clothes that they were about to send boots to the ground on the manhunt for Lewis – and the hopeful rescue (not recovery) of Liv. But even with the small crowd the case board and projection screens had been pulled over in plain view while the young blond detective spoke with an authority.

"He's like a cat playing with a mouse," Rollins told the group – the Captain standing among them with his back to the approaching that Amaro knew he wouldn't have wanted to see this at all. "When he can he moves them to a safe house. He takes his time."

"He's done this before," Munch interjected – building on the briefing with the authority of a sergeant. "He stops at a hardware store. He gets duct tape, rope and a soldering iron and then he stops at a liquor store."

"He ties the vic up," Rollins added. "Force feeds her alcohol, drugs. He drives around until he can find an abandoned location. Another set of vics. Roommates. He broken into their apartment. Forced them into the trunk of their own car and drives them to a fishing cabin. He holds them there for three days. He rapes, tortures …" her voice started to fade out as she turned back to the group and in scanning it her eyes fell plainly on Will.

Throughout the briefing the detective had been pointing to the faces of previous victims, pictures of previous crime scenes, maps plotting out Lewis' past movements. But even though that was what she was pointing at, scenes from the Benson-McTeague home were clearly visible. A picture from Olivia's NYPD identification was on the board as well as a duplicate of her smiling face with her husband and son – the picture Lewis had apparently taken from Will's wallet – was also there. A copy of Will's driver's license was also included among the tacked up pieces of paper. A photo of Lewis was pasted just above it. Sitting side-by-side it was apparent that there were enough similarities that if Lewis was pulled over and didn't want to react fatally, he could likely wrangle his way out of it using Will's identification if he had a naïve or lazy copy at the car window.

Will was looking at the board slack jawed as Amaro grabbed at his elbow and tried to guide him back the way they'd come.

"Let's go around the back way," Amaro tried but Will had dug his heels into the ground like a stubborn mule as he gazed. Amanda's horrified eyes meeting his as her words fell to a whisper.

"He left them there tied up," she finished, glancing over to Cragen who had also turned to assess her suddenly somber dictation of information. "But they escaped."

"So he lets them all live?" Will asked quietly. Amanda just gaped more still clearly unsure how to answer the question and again glanced at the Captain.

"Will – let me show you where your family is," Cragen said and moved towards him, though he shot both Rollins and Amaro clearly unimpressed looks. They'd been given simple task. Get McTeague to his family and out of the precinct and give a briefing and hand out Lewis' and Benson's photos. They'd screwed up even that. If they couldn't handle that – how could he trust them to bring home their colleague – their mentor, his detective – safely.

Will though also didn't heed Cragen's look. He jerked his elbow away from Amaro and glared at Rollins. "SO HE LETS THEM ALL LIVE?" he demanded even louder to the point his voice cracked and Amaro thought he was likely going to start crying again there in the squad room full of officers.

Amanda let out a deep breath and shook her head and shrugged her shoulders – not purposely but with the force of the air escaping her lungs. "No always," she admitted. She had too much respect for Liv – and for her husband, who'd always been friendly and kind to her even when Benson had been less than welcoming – to lie to his face.

Will's head dropped at that and he examined the ground as the Captain finished closing the gap and put his hand on the man's shoulder.

"Let me take you to your son," he said more gently this time.

All the cops in the room were looking at the man. None of them had likely expected to see the husband of the detective they were looking for. Many of them likely knew Benson was married to a McTeague. That likely meant varying things to many of them. Some of them likely despised it or the family. Others likely idolized them. Some bought into the mythology around them and their 9/11 contributions. Most likely hadn't ever met any of the McTeague's in person – not cops, not unless they knew Benson personally or had some other connection to the family. But Will McTeague was not likely what they were expecting. Especially as battered and bruised as he was – another victim in all this. And the circumstances around meeting any of the McTeagues wasn't ideal.

Will just started shaking his head more and it became clear that his breathing was changing as he finally looked back up. His eye glassy and unfocused. He stared at the case board again while the Captain again gently tried to nudge him out of the now eerily quiet full room.

"Those are the Carmichaels," he finally managed as he stood shaking and staring at the board. He looked like shock might be setting in again.

Amanda glanced over her shoulder at the board again. Off in another corner were individual pictures of the elderly couple. Below them were pictures from the crime scene that had been happening just above Will's head while he drifted in-and-out of consciousness in the hours after Lewis had pulled Liv out through the bathroom door and up the old service stairs of the brownstone t o the other tenants' home. Those pictures likely said more about why there were pictures of the Carmichaels than anyone in the bullpen ever needed to say.

"Why are the Carmichaels up there?" Will asked still staring at the board in a daze.

Cragen nudged at his shoulder again. "Com'on Will," he urged.

"Why are the Carmichaels up there?" Will sputtered again but then his jaw fell slack and his eyes gaped even more – to the point that the one swollen shut even seemed to open a slip. "Oh my God," he said and then started shaking his head. "Oh my God," he got out again but then started coughing as he dry heaved and crumbled over against his fractured ribs. His legs gave out and he near fell to the floor despite Cragen and Amaro trying to grab at him. His hand landing in the puddle of bile that he'd managed to heave from his empty stomach. "Oh my God," he started to cry and shake, heaving more that blood came up with the bile.

"SOMEONE GET AN EMT UP HERE," Cragen yelled at the room full of cops that were just looking at them stunned.

"My wife," Will started to sputter out. "What's he doing to my wife? Oh my God."

The ruckus must've been apparent from the lounge and Will's father appeared. The hulking man looked around the room – his square face landing directly on the board and drilling into Rollins too. He seemed to take in the information on it in a matter of seconds – barely even blinking and seeming not needing to think at all. But then he looked at his son and dropped to one of his aged knees, rubbing at Will's back.

"You're going to be alright, Willie," he assured and then looked Cragen in the eyes before glancing back at the group of men and women that seemed to have become statues in the room. "What are you all looking at?" Ted barked. "Go find her."


	26. Chapter 26

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"What are they doing in there?" May asked as Ted came back into the kitchen.

But her husband just gave her a shrug and made for the coffee pot – starting to ready it to brew even though it was well into the evening.

"They're just sitting," he allowed.

May eyed him. "In the dark?" Her husband just nodded and continued his work. Grabbing the coffee can and scooping the grinds into the filter. "You shouldn't be drinking coffee this late," she chastised. "You won't sleep."

Ted gave her a snort and looked over his shoulder at her with a rather patronizing complexion. "I won't be sleeping tonight, dear," he said flatly.

She sighed even though they both knew that she wouldn't be sleeping. "Well don't you be giving any to William. He doesn't need his nerves going more than they already are. He should be getting Noey to bed."

Ted finished his prep of the pot and turned to face her. "I don't think the boy will be doing much sleeping either."

"He must be exhausted," May lamented. "He should at least lay him down so he can rest."

"He wants to sit with his Daddy," Ted put to her with a bit more force but hissed out the words at the end. His son and grandson were just outside the kitchen entrance on the couch in the living room. If Will was listening, he could likely make out every word. They didn't need him listening and worrying about them and how they were coping or getting along. He had enough to worry about.

"What are they even doing out there?" May huffed again and moved to make for the door.

But Ted put up his hand. "Leave them be May," he said forcibly again. "I just checked on them. They're fine."

She looked at him, though her feet still shuffled like she might make a break for the door to go and check on them herself. Ted knew that was likely about the last thing William wanted – his mother fussing over him.

"But what are they doing? In the dark?" May demanded to know.

Ted sighed and leaned back against the counter. "They're just sitting on the couch, May," he told her with an edge of annoyance. "Noey's in Willie's lap. He's looking out the window."

May squinted at him and then glanced out the kitchen window looking over their backyard. It was near pitch black out even with the muted lights of their residential community. "What on Earth are they looking at out in the dark?" she asked. "There's nothing to see."

Ted shook his head and shrugged. "The patrol car out front, I guess," he allowed.

In reality he didn't know how much his son's eyes were focusing on much of anything. But he suspected what he was really looking at – hoping for – was to see the figure of his wife walking up the sidewalk and coming up the steps of the front porch. He doubt that was likely to happen, though. Not that night. He imagined the more likely way they'd be seeing Olivia come up those steps – if they ever did again – would be with someone helping her on each side as she mounted them.

May examined him at the comment, though – like she needed some time to process it herself. She finally let out her own slow breath. "Well maybe I should just go …"

Ted help up his hand again. "Leave them be May," he said more harshly. "Willie doesn't want you fussing over him."

William hated when his mother fussed over him. It had created chisosms in their relationship previously. It'd been one of many factors in their familial interactions that had pushed the boy away from them for years before he finally decided to come home. They couldn't repeat those very real mistakes while they tried to help him this time – or they'd be losing more than just a daughter-in-law. They'd lose their son again too and their little grandson.

May knew what he meant. It didn't need to be said more than what he'd said. He saw her eyes glass again. She'd been trying so hard to keep her emotions in check throughout the day while they waited for their son and grandson in the hospital, while they stood by Noey while the police talked to him, while they heard the horrific things that their son and grand-baby had endured and heard even more about what was likely happening to their daughter-in-law. While they tried to come to terms with the fact that they might not see their daughter-in-law again – not alive.

May had been the firefighter's wife through it all. A real McTeague. Stoic. Committed. Stable. Ted, though, knew it had been a struggle for her. It had been a struggle for him seeing his boy and grandson like that in the apartment. It had been even more jarring hearing about it out of the mouth of a babe. He'd felt his own chest tightening with anxiety and sadness throughout the day. He'd wanted to hit something. It was a good thing he wasn't an NYPD officer. He likely would've tracked down this Lewis character single-handedly and bashed his skull in for what he'd done to his youngest's family – not to mention all the other women he'd hurt along the way. Now that he was home, Ted thought he might want to cry just as much as his wife did. Though, he'd likely go out to his shed and turn on some power tools to drown it out or get into the shower and let out silent yells of rage and the hot tears come down his face in private. He needed a shower after everything he'd heard. He felt so dirty – and he hadn't even had to experience any of it.

"This is going to destroy William," May finally whispered, giving him an angry look and reaching up to swipe madly at her eyes that were overflowing more than they were glassing at that point.

"He's strong," Ted provided bluntly.

Ted knew his son was. Though the boy had a somewhat cushy career, he thought he might just be stronger than his other two sons. He'd been through so much. But at the same time he knew that the loss of Olivia would be different for William than the loss of his first wife. As traumatizing as it had been for his son to lose his wife in the Towers, Ted thought this may prove to hurt more. Things were so different now. The boy's relationship with Olivia was so different than what they'd witnessed in him while he'd been with Tessa. Of course, part of that was that they'd actually gotten to witness that relationship and the growth of it. William had been with Olivia for far longer before they were married than he'd been with Tessa. They'd actually met her multiple times. Seven years now, Ted thought. A stretch in William's life but far too short of time too.

Somehow the Olivia they'd meet those years ago seemed so much younger – even though her maturity and poise was apparent even then. But Ted had thought nearly from the get-go that she was the kind of woman his son needed. It wasn't just that she was a cop – which he liked. It was that she wasn't a push over. She challenged his son. Didn't stand down. Stood her ground. She could keep up with him. William needed that.

But the two had already been through so much in their relationship. He supposed the biggest change for his son was that he was a father now. That would change the dynamic of all of this so much more than when he was a young man – a young widower. This wouldn't be the same. Surviving this would be different then what they'd endured with Noey's illness. It'd be different than when Olivia was shot. Ted knew that Will had the capacity to survive it. But he also knew the boy was likely to enter a dark place in the process. This would be another scar on him that would haunt him and hang over him possibly more than others.

"And what about Noah?" May asked with a crack in her voice still.

Ted sighed. "Noey's stronger than any of us," he said.

The boy had a tenacity that he'd likely inherited from his mother. They'd witnessed it in him more than once. Ted was still clinging to that being enough to get the child through. Because he didn't want to think about what all this was going to do to the little boy. The trauma was already apparent. This wasn't something Ted had any idea how to fix. He suspected that the only person in the family who might know was his mother.

"What are we going to do, Ted?" May really cried that time and again swiped at her eyes. It really was no use. They were streaming at that point.

"We're doing all we can do," he told her.

"We aren't doing anything!" she protested. "Our son and grandson are sitting in the dark. Our daughter-in-law is …" She shook her head in a sob. "And we're making coffee! We should be doing something!"

Ted gave her a glare. "What are we supposed to be doing?" he demanded of her and pounded his open hand against the edge of the counter. If he didn't already feel helpless enough – he didn't need his wife accusing him of doing nothing. "We have the word out. We're here for Will and Noey. We're here to pick up any call that comes in."

"We should be out looking for her!" May cried. "We should have everyone out looking for her!"

"WHAT DO WE KNOW ABOUT DEALING WITH ANY OF THIS?" Ted said. "SHE'S WITH A MAD MAN, MAY! We can't just be knocking on doors. We'll get someone else maimed or killed. We're doing what we're supposed to be doing. We're doing what's been asked of us. We have to trust the NYPD to do their job."

"How are they doing their jobs?" May spat back at him. "Our daughter-in-law is missing. Our son and grandson …" she gestured through the door with her tears streaming even more. Ted knew she was trying to emphasize the trauma – the remoteness – that was apparent in them. Like they were broken beyond repair at the moment.

"Then we have to trust that Olivia knows how to take care of herself," Ted told her bluntly with stern eyes. He knew the level of conversation had reached the point that William could undoubtedly hear it.

"Oh, Ted …" she sobbed at that. "Olivia … no one …"

"She's strong," Ted said sternly. But he knew that no one was likely strong enough in a situation like this. He understood the gravity of the situation. He'd heard what was being said to them. He heard every word about what this man was capable of – what his daughter-in-law, the mother of his youngest grandson – was likely enduring. All he had left at the moment, though, was to trust that the hard, strong woman he'd come to love and respect had enough training and instinct and tenacity to survive. It was all he could cling to – and all he could tell his wife, son and grandson. It was the only option. He wasn't about to admit to them that he was already preparing himself for a body bag, a trip to the morgue, funeral arrangements and how to guide his family through that. He didn't believe that Olivia would let it get to that point. She'd fight until the bitter end to save William and Noah from having to go through any of that. Ted didn't want to think about what she'd have to fight through to achieve that. But he prayed she did.

"Not that strong," May said quietly and then looked down at the floor as the tears dripped off her face. "It's been more than a day, Ted. What is he doing to her? When will he give her back to us?"


	27. Chapter 27

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Olivia's eyes fluttered open. It felt like it took ages for them to focus in the dim light. It took longer for her to push through her own haze and realize that at some point while she'd been conscious Lewis had moved her to the bedroom.

She started at the realization and the terror that he'd done something more to her in her sleep and tried to move. But that just sent pain screaming through her arms and shoulders. She let her eyes roll up slowly to see her hands still bound and now tied high above her head to the bed frame they must've been like that for hours. She could hardly feel them beyond the shooting stab that had screamed to her shoulders when she'd adjusted herself. The blood had run out of them and they were asleep – dead weight, if not completely loss of circulation.

She gaped at them and realized that the tape had been taken off her mouth. That scared her too, though. What else had he been shoving down her throat while she was blacked out? Where had his mouth been? His hands? His fingers?

Olivia pulled at the restraints more – trying to pull herself somewhat upright from the prone position he had her in. But in her attempt to drag herself up the bed she realized that rope had now been tied to her ankles and bound to the foot of the bed. The frame just shook more as she moved.

The sound of it only made her struggle more. Squirming and wriggling and fighting against the bindings.

"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLP! HEEELLLLLLLLLLLP!" she screamed.

Her insides felt raw from the her previous screams. From the alcohol and the drugs. It was like razor blades had left little incisions down her entire throat and that her lungs couldn't fill to enough capacity to let out anything more than a horse cry no matter how hard she tried to yell. So instead her pulled and rocked the frame trying to get some of the knots to loosen or free. The shifting of the bed and the clatter of the frame against the wall and the floorboards seemed to create a bigger sound than she'd been able to emit.

She didn't think it mattered, though. It sounded so quiet. Eerily so. It was still. So still that she wondered if Lewis had left her. If he'd gone out to collect more tools or another victim. Or maybe he'd decided to let her go? She knew at that point it was likely a false hope. He'd made clear to her that wasn't part of his plan this time around. Still, she didn't think anyone near by was going to hear her cries or the rocking bed. It was no where near loud enough for that. And she knew he'd taken her somewhere abandoned. They were alone. She didn't know how far away or alone they were. But she was starting to suspect that she couldn't depend on the NYPD tracking her down – not in time. Too much time had passed already. What day was it now? How long had it been? It was all a blur despite it being seared into her being.

She felt so weak from the pain and dehydration. She thought she might be hungry but she couldn't really tell. The thought seemed so distant and reclusive. Even her struggle against the bed left her exhausted within seconds. She felt her breathing laboring and her muscles weakening in the fight.

Her fight, though, had been too loud – and Lewis appeared at the door. He stuck his head in – tilting it while he examined her head with that smile again. This time clutching a serated rotatary tool in his one hand.

"Awake are we?" he asked. She just fought against the restraints more at his appearance. "What? Don't like the accommodations?"

"Billy," she tried – forcing herself to still. Forcing herself to try to collect her thoughts. To calm herself. To focus. "We don't have to do this. You can still let me go. You can still just walk out that door like nothing happened. You've done worse and got away with it. Just go. Get the hell out of New York."

He laughed at her and looked at the ceiling like he was amused. "Really?" he asked and shot her a smile. "You're still trying to negotiate with me? We're past that."

"I'm an NYPD detective," she pressed again.

He shook his head at her like she was being ridiculous. "And what good is that doing you now Detective Benson? Do you see the position you're in?"

"I'm offering you a way out," she said, "because if you keep going – it's not going to be just me that leaves this house in a body bag. My partner. My squad. The entire department – will hunt you down."

He just glared at her. "And where are they?" he said plainly.

She just looked at him more between her tired, bruised and slitted eyes. "You think that you've put me through hell? It's going to rain back down on you."

The smile spread again as he closed the gap between the door and the bed. "You know what?" he said. "Let it rain."

She looked at him as he stood of her examining her battered and restrained body. She tried to keep her breathing even even though she could feel it heaving against her tired lungs and sore ribs. She tried to keep a look of defiance meeting his eyes. She'd keep fighting. But she also realized too clearly in that moment that he'd likely left her in the bed in preparation for his end game. He'd let some of the effects of the drugs and alcohol wear off. Her mind didn't feel quite as foggy or heavy. She told herself that it was good for her survival – to be able to fight through this. But she also knew what he was really doing was giving her enough coherence so that she'd feel it all. That she'd be present for it all. And, if he let her live – she'd remember it all.

He held the rotator tool up even more as he looked down on her. She could tell he was taking in her body. He was plotting where to start. What to do next. The best exact way to torture her.

"You look a little over dressed," he stated suddenly and his weight dropped against her so quickly and harshly he winded her. But Olivia still managed to struggled against him. Twisting her torso and kicking her legs up as much as she could as he pressed her back into the aged mattress that smelt of dust and winter and beach and sea. Damp and mildew. Stuffy like a building that hadn't been open to the air for months but had decades of the sea breezing blowing through it in the summer and settling into the upholstery and the wood paneling.

His one hand came down and pressed her one struggling thigh down hard – putting his weight against it until his knees dug into both of them, holding them in place. She'd seen the bruises on the thighs of so many victims from where their attack had pressed his knees into them and forced them to spread their legs.

"Relax," he hissed as he overpowered her – and his free hand again found her crotch and grabbed brutally at her sex, his fingers curling around and pressing into her hard even through her clothing. "We aren't taking your pants off just yet. I'm much more interested in seeing the work we've done on these," he said and took the tool and pulled it in a swift motion down her sternum, parting the material of her shirt and cutting into her skin.

"Ahhhhhhh, ahhhh," she screamed but then forced herself to choke on it and growl as the round knife cut into her. She could feel the warmth of the blood starting to trickle.

Lewis just smiled – and pulled the material away from her torso, pushing it off her shoulders to look at where he'd pressed lit cigarettes and heated keys through her shirt and brassiere and branding her breasts. He seemed fascinated with his work, his grin growing. But then his hand came up and his thumb drilled into the one seeping burn. Olivia let out another scream but in his position she could just feel what her yowls were doing. His arousal was pressing against her and it made her want to vomit. Her skin crawled feeling in there but she refused to look – looking at the ceiling, the window to the side with its closed blinds. Trying to think if there still might be a way out of all of this.

His hand came up and grabbed her chin, though. His fingers pressing into her skin and jerking it until she was looking into his eyes.

"Look at me," he demanded. She kept his eyes. She tried to look stern. But realized she didn't have the strength left in her to keep that glare so instead unfocused her eyes and tried to think of where she could send her mind instead. Anywhere but here. "Give me a smile," Lewis said. "You look so pretty when you smile."

She didn't respond and she felt him shift against her. His weight pressing down on her more. She could feel his eyes wandering.

"Got some problem areas," he said as he examined her stomach. "Too bad for Will, right? Pretty when you marry her – but bitches always let themselves go after the wedding."

His hand again pressed into her. She felt his fingers spread against her stomach and then his hand grabbed and pinched hard at the bit of extra flesh at her love handles and the small pad of flesh that had never completely disappeared after her C-section no matter how hard she worked at it. The tool came up and cut into it and she again let out a grunt with the pain.

"Still nicer then … what was her name?" he asked and looked up at her while he thought about it. "The old bitch that had it out for me?" He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I'm going to enjoy this a lot more than I did her."

His hand started to move up her again but suddenly stopped as it played across her side. Her bullet wound and the scar from the surgeries to remove it and take out part of her ravaged lung. The bump from the tubes that had been inside her to drain the fluid from her lung and to keep it inflated in her recovery.

"What's this?" he asked and pushed her onto her side so he could look at it more.

But Olivia used the movement and the opportunity – taking the force to rock herself move and to shift and kick her legs under him. It took him off guard and Lewis' weight fumbled from her thighs and he staggered off her momentarily. She just kept flailing in the momentary absence of his weight. Her torso, legs and arms moving and beating against the bed – refusing to still.

"HEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLP!" she screamed again – this time feeling louder and more firm than her previous cries.

It didn't last long, though, as the entire weight of her capture landed on her this time and his hand clamped around his mouth. The sharp blade of the rotary knife pressed firmly to her jugular. She could feel the trickle of blood already and knew with a bit more pressure and a firm swipe of his wrist – she'd be lying on that bed bleeding out.

"SHUT UP," he pissed at her. "Or do you want to die?"

She shook her head – as much as his weight and the knife would allow. "I want to live," she mumbled against his hand but the tears started flowing from her eyes. "I want to live."

She had had so much to live for. She had had so much to look forward to. Now she didn't know what that future looked like – but she still couldn't let herself make the decision to miss it. She couldn't.

"Good," Lewis smiled. "Then we aren't done yet."


	28. Chapter 28

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"How many more do we have after this?" Nick asked giving Rollins a glance in the passenger side seat of the squad car.

"Hmm," she said and fiddled on the iPad in her lap for a moment. They'd managed to track down several of the beach house rentals that Liv had apparently been looking at and had ingested them into a mapping software before sending out teams to go and see if they could track her down. The problem was they hadn't been able to locate the short-list that she'd apparently shown to Will a few weeks ago. So instead they were working with the electronic cookie crumbs that TARU had spent all night collecting off her various devices and search histories – and the vain hope that maybe she'd ended up favoring the area around Fire Island since it sounded like what she would've been most familiar with from the family's camping trips. Liv, though, certainly hadn't seemed to have narrowed down much of an area from what they had managed to comb from her accounts. "Two more on our list."

Amaro made an unimpressed out. "She couldn't have picked an area," Nick muttered. They had people spread across Long Island – on about every beach and bay imaginable – trying to find some sign of her.

Amanda glanced at him. "I think she was going for beach front, a porch and pictures of sunsets more than a particular area," she provided for Liv's partner who had been becoming even more grouchy and agitated (if that was possible) as their day in the car dragged on.

"Well that narrows it down," Nick said even more angrily.

Rollins just glared at him and rolled her eyes. "At least it's a place to start," she provided, repeating Cragen's sentiment from earlier. As the hours – days – trudged on with no word, she had to agree with him, at least looking was something at this point.

"It feels like a waste of time," Nick shot at her. "We should be utilizing our manpower differently. We should be back in the house – making calls, interviewing our witnesses and vic."

"That's the Cap's prerogative," Rollins pushed back at him a little harshly, "and the Serg is fine dealing with the rest of that. We've got the APB's out. Something comes in – they'll tell us."

Nick sighed hard at that and glared at the road. "I never got the appeal of this," he said and waved his hand at the windshield, in an effort to change the topic, to diffuse their spat, to try to think about something else. "Summering out here?"

Amanda glanced at him and then slumped against her window a bit again and looked at the winding road they were on. It was so dead. Compared to the bustling city – it was hard to believe they were so close by, it all felt so far removed. She imagined that was the appeal.

"She was just looking to spend some time with her family, Nick," she put flatly. She didn't think she really needed to explain it more than that. She knew Nick likely already knew that too. Neither of them wanted to examine that too much, though. Especially not with some of Will's comments and the realization that not everything was happy in paradise for the Benson-McTeague's over the winter. Looking back on it and knowing how much Liv had been called in in the evenings and weekends over the past few months. Sure, that was part of being a detective. But to now know that it had been affecting her marriage and family life – and those arguments and tension might be what would be left haunting her husband … it was just not something any of them really wanted to focus on.

"Yeah, but if you're going for the beach – go to Miami. Not …. Long Island?" Nick interjected with some disgust.

Rollins looked at him like he was being retarded – because she was pretty sure he was. "Miami?" she put to him. "For a long weekend? You making a different salary than the rest of us?"

He snorted at that. "Did you look at the rental prices of some of these listings they pulled?"

"I put the addresses on the map. I didn't look at how much Liv spends on her holidays," Amanda groaned and looked out the window. She was glad she didn't often get partnered with Nick. He was driving her crazy. How tightly wound he was was making him impossible to work with. He was just volatile and almost everything that was coming out of his mouth had an edge to it. More reason to find Liv – in one piece and a state that she'd at least consider coming back to SVU, though Rollins was starting to imagine that wouldn't likely be happening even if they weren't just recovering her body. But she couldn't imagine having to work with Amaro in a partnership long-term.

For the moment it was like he hadn't even heard her muttering – or much of anything else she'd said. He could be so patronizing with her.

"For what she was willing to pay for some of these places – they might as well have gone to Miami. Probably would've been cheaper. No wonder McTeague wasn't interested."

Amanda rolled her eyes again and went back to looking out the window – so she didn't have to look at him. "I don't think that's why Will wasn't interested," she said flatly. The whole thing was clearly a spat – from the sounds of it a rather immature one – that he likely had already added to the list of things he was going to beat himself up over in all this.

"I don't get that guy," Nick continued. "He could've stopped this before it even started."

Amanda let out a noise at that and looked back at Amaro. She knew that for whatever reason Liv's partner and her husband didn't seem to like each other. They never saw eye-to-eye – even in their very limited interactions. She thought it likely had something to do with their first meeting and Will putting Nick in his place when the detective had decided to express his unsolicited and ill-advised opinion to Liv's husband. It might've also had something to do with Will wishing Nick luck with his marriage while he was working SVU – and that he could get back to him and give him his opinion in a year – if his marriage was still intact and his ass was still at a desk in the SVU squad room. The follow-up on Nick's opinion hadn't ever come considering the implosion of his own marriage. Rollins doubted that Nick much liked the math professor's projection on that outcome.

"He could've stopped it?" she spat at him. "Lewis had a gun to his son's head by the time Will was even aware he was there."

"Yeah, but he could've …"

She cut him off. "He could've what?" she almost yelled at him. She knew Will was blaming himself enough – more than all of them were blaming themselves. There was enough blame to go around. They didn't need to be heaping it onto Will. And, it certainly wasn't anyone's fault. Though, she knew they'd all be bearing aspects of the fault for the rest of their lives. "Not all of us go around wearing bulletproof vests, Nick."

"McTeague's a fit guy," he suggested. "He could've taken him down."

"He had a gun to his son's head," Rollins said again. "What would you do if someone had a gun to Zara's head?"

"So instead he let the guy torture his son and abduct his wife," Nick said with a headshake – his eyes on the road.

"OK," Amanda said, "Olivia clearly felt Lewis had enough command of the room and had Will and Noah at critical risk – or else she wouldn't have gone with him. Something else would've happened in that room. Lewis would've been in the body bag. She has the tactical training. Will doesn't. Leave him alone."

"I'm just saying …" Nick started again.

"Nick, stop," Amanda shouted.

He glanced at her and sighed. "OK," he said with some defeated recognition in his voice that he was crossing a line.

"No stop the car," she said again and looked at him. "Back it up."

He looked at her. "What?"

"Back up the car," she demanded. "There was a vehicle just inside the brush."

Nick slammed on the brakes a bit too harshly but the car didn't back up. Instead, he reached for the radio.

"This is Manhattan SVU portable. We've got an abandoned vehicle off Sunken Meadow Road. We're going to take a look," he barked.

His hand flew to his seat belt even before he finished his notification and they both were out of their seats.

They started down back down the road on foot, their hands reaching for their holsters and drawing their weapons. Amanda slowed as they got closer to the vehicle and pointed it out. Amaro nodded his recognition of the sighting and skirted to the side to attempt to get a closer look. Moving slowly until he was past the vehicle and on the opposite side of it to were Rollins was still standing – scanning the bush and trying to make out if there were any figures inside the car.

"It's the right plates," Amaro whispered across to her. In the stillness of the area and the slight breeze – his words reached her ears easily, almost like he was still standing next to her.

"I don't see any movement in the car," Rollins put back to him.

Nick nodded but still shuffled forward a few steps with his gun drawn and pointed toward the driver's seat.

"Lewis," he called loudly, "it's the police. I need to see your hands. NOW!"

There was still nothing.

"Lewis," Nick called again. "It's the end of the line. You need to drop your weapons and show us your hands. We are approaching the vehicle. We will use deadly force if you make any false move."

Amanda glanced at him and he gestured for her to start moving closer to the car while he covered her. She started to make her practiced approach. Her eyes locked on the inside of the car for any movement – while also trying to scan the heavily brushed area for any signs of danger lurking further out from them. But as she got to the car – she lowered her weapon and turned back to shake her head at Nick.

"Clear," she called.

She could hear him sigh even from where she was standing and he closed the gap between them. She looked through the windows and then grabbed at the handle of the driver's seat door. It came open – and she peered inside.

"We've got more empties in here," she said, leaning over to examine the contents on the passenger seat and the floor. "Five-Crazies. Dime bags. Cigarettes."

Nick came around the opposite side and pulled open the passenger door of the backseat. "And blood," he added.

Amanda leaned between the seats and took it in. There was blood caked against the head rest in the back – suggesting that Liv likely had taken some blows to the face and head, if not the neck and spine. But that seemed to by Lewis' M.O. based on the looks of Will. From the smell and the mark on the seat, she also suspected that their colleague had been forced to spoil herself – either from the torture, fear or simply not being allowed to use a toilet for more than a day at this point. Rollins sighed. Humiliation was part of Lewis' torture. She psychological trauma and abuse was going to last longer than the physical scars likely. If they found her.

"Pop the trunk," Amaro demanded of her – with a forward look, meeting her eyes for a moment. They both knew that he didn't want in the trunk to look for evidence. The evidence suggested that Lewis had had Olivia in the backseat of this car – not the trunk. If Olivia was in the trunk – alive – she would've called out to them by then. It wasn't a live body that Nick was looking for.

Amanda let out a slow breath as Nick circled to the back of the car. She felt her heart beating into her ears at deafening levels. This could be it – the end. The end of one chapter and the start of another. Just the beginning of a brand new manhunt for Lewis. This time with a certain ending – his.

Her hand reached and pulled the lever. She was almost relieved that she wasn't the one standing back there. She didn't want to be one watching the trunk pop up and bounce – seeing the contents inside first. The sound of the metal launching up against its spring hit and she waited for Nick's reaction – keeping her eyes on the floor of the driver's side, giving herself a moment to compose herself.

"It's empty," Nick finally said after what it felt like a good 15 minutes rather than seconds. She heard his hand ruffle around the compartment. "Nothing," he added.

She let out her breath and rose beating her hand against the roof of the car. "Fuck," she cried angrily and then glanced around the woods that were surrounding them.

How long had the vehicle been there? Was Lewis still in sight? Watching them right then? Was Olivia still alive? Or had he just dragged her body to somewhere in the bodies? How far could've he gotten on foot with how he'd injured her if he'd taken her somewhere else? Or did he flag down another car? Feign an accident? Have another victim in his clutches or another body to his name? New license plates, make and model that they didn't know about?

"Where are you, you bastard?" she cursed under her breath and started to take a few steps forward, still looking for any clues about how they'd vacated the vehicle and to where.

She glanced behind her from her scanning of the ground and branches as she heard Nick on his phone.

"Yeah, Captain, we've got his car," Nick said. "There's no sign of Lewis or Liv … We're still about two miles out from the closest beach house on our list. … I don't know. It's a pretty heavily wooded area for him to be taking her any distance on foot. … Should probably get a canine unit out here to see if they can pick up any trace of her. I might still have her somewhere in the woods. Maybe get out another APB and see if there's been any reports of … anything … in the area. Yeah … we'll go the rest of the way to the beach house and see if there's any sign of them there. … You want us to wait until you get some unis or crime scene on sit here or …"

"Nick …" Amanda interrupted from her search several yards into the brush – just enough to be invisible from the road but still continuing off along it, still headed towards where they'd been going. She bent and grabbed at something she'd become too familiar with looking at for the past two years. On the woods floor glistened the necklace Benson had had around her neck for the entire time that Amanda had known her. Fearlessness it proclaimed. A message for the victims they dealt with daily. But it was what Olivia needed herself now. Yet knowing it was absent from the woman some how made Rollin's heart sink a bit – like without it the illusion that this den mother of a woman might not be able to push through in quite the way they imagined.

She held up the thin chain and the pendant in Nick's direction. "Her necklace," she said flatly and then let her gaze scan the woods again. "He still has her out there …"


	29. Chapter 29

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"William," May sighed as she looked at him hunched over the dining room table – their laptop in front of him and his father's police scanner crackling next to him, "why don't you go back and lay down again with Noah?"

He didn't even glance at her. "He's fine," Will said flatly.

She wanted to scream at him that the little boy was no fine. Not after what he'd just been through – probably not ever again.

Noah had been holding it together in a way that seemed far too mature for a boy his age the day before. But it was clear that that was only because the full extent of the situation hadn't quite set in yet. The boy was traumatized. He was in utter shock. He was in denial for his own self-preservation.

It had only continued after they'd gotten Will and Noah back to their home. They'd both sat like statues on that living room couch – in the dark and unmoving, silent – for hours. May had thought their eerie blank presence in the room was almost more terrifying than what they'd heard of what they'd endured. It scared her – and it scared her more to think that that's what a few hours had done to her two boys. What would now more than 36 hours do to Olivia?

They'd both sat so quietly until the wee hours of the morning when there must've been a shift change on the officers parked in front of their house. Someone must've accidentally flicked the switch for the sirens ever so briefly. But it was like that wail had pulled Noah out of his chance and the sobbing had begun. The little boy had wept so that he near convulsed and hyperventilated. May was near at the point that she was about cry out to the officers that they needed go to the hospital. Instead she'd settled for calling over their EMT son from next door. His presence only threw Noah into a further fit. So her nurse daughter-in-law had been called instead and they'd gentle managed to get Noah to breath again in normal breaths. His crying had continued, though, until his body had finally collapsed exhausted.

The poor child had been awake for near two days at that point. He needed his sleep. But even in his sleep his body had writhed under its memories. May was sure he'd only be asleep for minutes before the monster entered his dreams and he was sent into another terror. But his mind and body must've had other plans and had taken his consciousness for several hours now.

She'd hoped that Will would lay in rest too. That he'd find some of his own sleep – a brief escape from the torment of the day. But, though, he'd laid with his son for some time and stroked gently at his back and head and face – trying to calm him – it had only lasted briefly. All too soon Will had appeared back on the main level of the house – leaving his son alone. May could only imagine the terror that might set into Noah again when he awoke in an empty room. She thought if Will wasn't going to go back up to be with his child – she would have to. Still, she loathed leaving her child alone in the dining room too.

Theodore had retreated to his work shed. She didn't know what he was doing. She suspected he was building some sort of crossbow or other instrument of torture for if they ever caught the man who harmed his daughter-in-law, further robbed his grandson of his childhood and had added more trauma to his son in his fleeting effort to find happiness and normalcy. Really, though, she suspected her husband was experiencing too much anger, too much sadness, and just too many emotions that might somehow betray his manhood that he'd retreated to be alone for the moment while he thought his son and grandson were sleeping.

"I really think you should be with Noah when he wakes up," May stressed to him.

Will's eyes shifted to her briefly from the computer screen but he made no comment. The radio scanner crackled again and a fractured voice could be heard over a transmission somewhere in the city. Her son's eyes snapped to it and he looked at it like he could see the words and they'd provide the piece of the puzzle he needed.

May sighed. "William, your father already told you that they are likely on radio silence about this," she said. "You aren't going to hear anything – and even if you did, they're speaking in code."

"Mmm…" he made a listening sound but clicked more on the computer.

The crackle came again and a voice started.

"William …" she spoke above it.

But he snapped at her. "QUIET," he near yelled. His eyes bolting to her, the radio and then his computer screen.

"11-99. 10-49 to East Northport. Address to follow," the voice over the radio crackled. "Code 2. 11-41. No 10-15. Reported 207. 217, possible 261."

May watched as Will clicked madly around on the computer, as his eyes grew wide and he bolted from his seat, near running to the front door.

"William?" she called after him.

He stopped long enough to look at their key hooks by the door and slam his hand against the wall as he fumbled around with them.

"The keys?" he demanded for her, his eyes filling with anger. "Where are the truck keys?"

"William what are you doing?" she near cried at him.

He gestured madly over at the table. "It's Olivia," he yelled at her. "They've found her."

May's tears did start at that. "Oh, William. You don't know that. They're speaking in code. Her captain will call as soon as they have word."

"Officer needs help," he said slowly and purposefully at her. "Proceed to East Northport. Address to follow," he said and his eyes grew wider and he bolted back across the room to snatch the radio up into his hand. "Urgent. No lights or sirens. Proceed with caution. Ambulance on standby requested. Prisoner not yet in custody. Previously reported kidnapping victim. Suspected assault with attempt to murder, possible rape. That's what it said."

May shook her head madly. "William – it could be anything. Anyone. You don't know what they said."

"I looked up the codes online, mother," he spat at her. "It's Olivia. WHERE ARE THE KEYS?"

"William …" she near begged him. "You shouldn't go. Let them do their job. They'll call when they have information for us."

He glared at her and then scooped all the keys off the hooks and pulled open the door and stormed out the front of it and down the steps to the pickup – pulling open their near always unlocked doors and throwing himself in to the point he winced on impact. She saw him then take on set of keys and start trying to determine which set belonged to their vehicle.

May heaved and hurried through the house to the backdoor and screamed out to the shed. "Ted! Ted!" He appeared looking startled and concerned. "Oh, it's William. It's William," she cried. "He thinks they found Olivia. He's trying to go."

Ted started jogging as much as his aged knees would take him across the back lawn. She pointed around the side of the house.

"He's in the drive," she said. "He's in the truck."

He nodded and made his way along the end of the house. May charged back through the house and stood on the front porch and watched while William continued to struggle with the keys.

"William," she cried. "Come back inside. Noah needs you. Please."

"Olivia needs me," he screamed at her and fumbled with another key until this time the engine revved to life and he slammed his door shut just as his father pounded his hand on the hood.

"Wait, Willie, wait," Ted pleaded. "I'll go with you."

Will seemed to stop for a moment as he eyed his father but let him round the hood of the car and pull himself into the passenger seat, giving his wife a glance. But then the vehicle revved again and peeled down the drive way.

May's tears started streaming more. She thought they should be relief but instead she was now more terrified about what her son and husband would be walking into – what it would all mean and what they'd see. What they didn't need to see.

As the truck squealed down the street she watched as the young uniformed officers in the cruisers watched it for a moment and then their sirens sprung to life and started to chase after her husband and son. She wondered how far they would get or if it would be a high-speed chase all the way to, and across, Long Island.


	30. Chapter 30

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"Not going to fight it?" Lewis asked of her, giving her that slightly gaped mouth look as he continued to examine her.

His hands had moved to the clasp of her pants but she'd stopped fighting against him. She was only hurting herself more and her flailing was clearly turning him on. So Olivia had forced herself to still. She'd told herself that if she just let him do what he wanted – take what he wanted – maybe he'd leave her alive. Maybe he'd decide that her living with that would be a worse feat than killing her. He might be right. She already thought she might want to die. It seemed easier. Just end it. End it now. After years of telling victims that they had so much to live for. That they were going to get past it. That they were going to have a life. Right now she couldn't believe it. Even if she lived she couldn't imagine going back to daily life. To her son. To work. To try to be normal. To function. To push this all from her mind.

"It's so much better when you struggle, baby," he told her.

Olivia still didn't respond. She looked at the ceiling with glassy eyes and let the tears roll down her cheeks. But she held back the sobs and kept her breathing even, though her heart continued to pound in her chest.

She couldn't believe this was happening. She didn't want to believe it was. She was still convinced she might wake up from some sort of awful nightmare. A flashback to Sealview that had gone madly awry. She'd been under too much stress. She'd been working too many disturbing cases. Her mind was playing tricks on her. Eventually she'd wake up. She'd make it a priority to go back to some counselling sessions. She'd practice her methods to deal with her flashbacks and triggers again. Feel her feet on the ground. Hear her breathing – in and out. That she was home. That she was safe. But none of that was true. She was bound to an aged mattress, her breathing felt like it was catching no matter how even she tried to keep it. She wasn't home. She wasn't safe.

The clasp came undone and she felt his fingers move and pull down the zipper of her pants. His hands hovering there only made the tears come harder. It made the sobs want to shake out of her. She wanted to scream, to beg, to gag, to vomit. But that would only give him exactly what he wanted. So she tried to keep quiet – to keep still.

His hand spread over the front of her panties and her skin crawled more. But yet she also could feel her body twitch there – though it was more through a shudder than any sort of involuntarily arousal. Still, Lewis had felt it and Olivia felt his eyes move again to her face, that snake like tongue lapping at his lips well he gazed at her.

"Look at me, Beautiful. I want to see those big, beautiful eyes," he said almost gently while his hand played against her.

She let out a shaky breath but forced her eyes to move from the ceiling and meet his. She could see the glee there. He was enjoying what he was doing. And, his hand slipped below her waist band and his fingers found her sex, parting her. For all her struggle to keep still she couldn't at that and she bucked in an effort to get away from that awful invasion.

But he just smiled more at that and his hand came away from her but joined his other. Both palms brutally pressed her hips down onto the bed.

"That's it, sweetheart," he mumbled, looking at her convulsing body as she growled and struggled. "Fight it."

The weight of him push so hard into her hips she knew there'd be even darker bruises. Still she bucked against him for several seconds in her vain effort to get away or to at least get him off of her. But she stilled as she felt his hands shift and grab more at the waist of her pants and panties – yanking them down to mid-thigh.

"There. You like that," he put to her.

"Just do it, Lewis," she spat at him. "Let's get this over with."

He laughed and spread his hand over her pelvis again. "What's the hurry? We've got time. We've got a lot of shock and awe to go before we do that."

She let out a sound of disgust and turned her head to look off into the corner again. Trying to think of anything but what he was doing with his hands. Anything about the sequence she knew he was now setting into motion. Anything at all about where she was and what was happening.

His fingers played across her sex more while he stopped to nearly pet at her short cropped and trimmed pubic region.

"Got some landscaping going on here, do we?" he commented, as his hand continued to move, brushing at her lips and then suddenly pinching at her clit and squeezing hard.

Agony shot through her and she involuntarily screamed and withered under him. He twisted harder and watched her as the tears started to stream even more freely.

He finally let out – after what had felt like an excruciating long time to her.

"Now why would we be doing that?" he put to her like it was some sort of great mystery to solve. "Got a hair problem?" he asked and his fingers now ran down her naked inner thighs like he was looking for any trace of razor burn or stubble that he could discern her grooming habits from. "Or this just what Willie likes?" he put to her and considered between her legs again. "Last broad had quite the bush. This I could get used to. But this isn't really for Will is it?" he asked and his hand went back to her, parting at her sex again and examining it like it was some sort of atomically model put out for medical students to dissect. "No. I think this is for you. This is to make it a bit easier for Mr. Bashful you've got at home to figure out how to connect the dots, isn't it?" He looked at her face again as she gazed off into the corner – trying not to hear him, trying not to feel him. "LOOK AT ME!" he demanded again.

She made another sound and let her eyes rotate to him. "FUCK YOU," she spat at him.

The smile grew more. "Oh, we're getting to that, baby." He just watched her for a moment. "Do you like Will to go down on you Detective Benson?" he hissed.

Olivia made another noise and again turned her eyes away from him. But he just crawled up her body and then lay next to her stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. Somehow that touch felt even more awful to her than his hands being between her legs.

"You do, don't you," he hissed into her ear. "But this – it's all about what you can do. And you haven't really shown me yet, have you? What you're capable of with your mouth and hands and fingers?"

Olivia just jerked away from his touch.

"It's OK," he smiled. "I know you're tied up right now. But we've still got that saucy mouth of yours, don't we?"

She moaned more as his hand snapped to her chin and again made that pinching, yanking motion that forced her mouth open no matter how hard her tried to shut it. Previously he'd been doing it to force feed her booze and drugs. But she knew that wasn't his intention this time. Still, she tried to pull again – his hand just pulling her head back straight while he glared into her eyes – her being.

Finally he let go and snatched the rotary tool back from where he'd set it on the bedside table, grabbing a chunk of her long hair in his other hand.

"We're going to start now," he told her, drilling into her. "We're going to see just how much you want to live. Or just how much you want to die. But one false move – and lights out," he said, swiping the tool through her locks and then holding them up to show her before wriggling his fingers and letting the strands sprinkle down onto her face.


	31. Chapter 31

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Cragen near stormed from where the squad car was parked on the road – his open NYPD windbreaker flying behind him in the breeze. It had taken far too long to make the drive out there. He spent the entire trip agonizing over what was happening in those passing minutes that they should've been able to address instantly – not having to wait for the arrival of more personnel on scene.

"What have we got?" he barked at Amaro as the detective spotted him and near jogged up the road to meet him.

Amaro's pace fell in-line with his as they continued their rapid walk over to the command centre up the road from the beach house that they'd focused in on.

"We've still got movement in there," Amaro said.

"No approach attempts yet?" Captain said.

Amaro shook his head. "All the blinds are closed. The one in what the layout shows as the master bedroom is open just a slit. We've got some spotters watching," he said and picked up a pair of binoculars for Cragen to take his first look up to the rather aged and isolated looking beach house. "We can see movement. Some flashes of Lewis. Can see hands up on the bed frame. Assuming it's Liv. There's tracks hope to the house. Two sets. Looks like the second set was barely lifting their feet – or being dragged."

Cragen sighed and brought the binoculars down to look at him for a moment – before return the spectacles to his eyes and scanning around the area in an attempt to spot where their officers were on the ground.

"So no form of contact yet?" the Captain clarified.

Nick shook his head again. "Local cops got a call last night from a dog walker. Said he thought he saw a light on in the house. Thought it was strange. Some of the personnel closer think they've heard some cries for help and some screaming. But it's hard to tell over those waves." He nodded off towards the ocean which was crashing into the shore – effectively drowning out most other sound around them.

Still Cragen sighed harder. He hated to know that his detective was in there crying for help and screaming in agony and they were still dicking around outside.

"Screaming should've given you probably cause," he barked at Amaro.

Nick sighed at that. "We don't have any real sight lines, Captain. From the glimpses we're getting – it looks like she's restrained and he's in the room with her. We don't know what else he has in there. We were waiting for the order. We didn't want to get her more hurt than she already is."

Cragen accepted the answer, though, with a small nod. As much as he wanted to barge in there and save her – they had no idea what they were walking into. What weapons Lewis might have in there. How Olivia was restrained. How badly hurt she was. What he was doing to her right at that second. In the time it took them to break down the door and get into the bedroom – Lewis would already have the upper hand in the situation again. Or he'd have killed her. This wasn't a hostage negotiation.

"Any indication he knows we're here?" Cragen asked.

Nick shook his head. "He seems pretty focused on whatever is going on in that room."

Whatever is going on in that room? They all knew what was going on in that room. Olivia was being tortured and raped – while they were standing outside with their thumbs up their asses.

"SWAT's behind me," Cragen said.

"Hostage negotiator?" Nick asked.

"I am the hostage negotiator today," Cragen spat at him. "We aren't negotiating. He's not going to know we're here. He's not going to know what hit him."

Nick eyed him. It was a move that could put the Captain in hot water with the IAB. Worse – it may officially be the end of his career. He didn't care, though. He cared more about his detective getting out of that house alive – and delivering her back to her husband and small son. There was going to be an IAB investigation anyways. Let them do what they wanted to him. He wasn't going to let Lewis do anything more to Olivia than he already had.

"How far back?" Nick asked, his eyes shifting back to the beach house.

"Ten, twenty minutes," Cragen muttered. Too long. "I'll get on the horn. Tell them to haul ass. Start ordering the perimeter to move in. SLOWLY!" He clarified and pointed. He needed people on that house – in the door – as soon as the shot fired off. "If anything changes. He moves the wrong way. A gun goes off. We hear more screams – we're going in. So get people ON THAT BUILDING."

Nick gave him a nod and moved to go and pass along the information. Cragen knew that he'd be moving himself down closer to the house too – so he could be one of the first people to his partner when this went down.

Cragen sighed and looked at the house. It did look like the kind of place that Olivia would take her family. Dated but classy. Beach chairs on a small dune bluff overlooking the sand and waves. Sand and surf for her swimming son and husband. A porch for her with her books and quiet evenings with Will. It was likely just what she would've needed after the grueling winter they'd all had. Now the beachfront vacations that the family seemed to so favor would likely become a thing of the past. But at least he'd hopefully be able to bring them back together.

"Com'on, Olivia," he muttered on his breath – his eyes still fixed on that house, wishing he had xray vision to see through its walls and justify making their move now. "Hang on. Just a bit longer. We're here. We're coming."


	32. Chapter 32

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"So exactly what are you willing to do to make sure you get to see that little boy again?" Lewis asked.

He'd moved his weight back to her thighs and seemed more transfixed on his heating soldering iron than he did her at the moment. But she knew it was only a matter of minutes – or seconds – before he felt it had reached the desired temperature and it began to be used for purposes only a mind as sadistic as his could even imagine. Her mind was feeling at the thought of where it was going to be placed – on her, in her. She didn't think there was any way she could mentally or physically prepare herself for that pain.

"I'll do whatever you want," she cried. The tears were following freely at this point. She couldn't hold them back as hard as she tried. She was so scared about what was going to happen to her. Her ability to handle it – because she really didn't think she could; not in this state, not now. Her ability to live with it. Or worse that she was ticking towards the final minutes or hours of her life. That she'd have to endure this in them and then she'd just disappear. She wanted it to end. But she was so scared for it to be over too. "Please, just let me go home."

Lewis glanced at her with that. "Go home?" He smiled. "I don't think you can ever go home again, Detective Benson."

"Please, Billy," she near sobbed. "Please, just let me go. Do what you want and then just go. Please."

He grinned. "That's really not how this works," he told her and the iron found her hip – pressing into it until the skin sizzled and she groaned and wriggled under him. Apparently her reaction wasn't enough and he twisted it harder into the thin skin at the bone before pulling it away and continuing to examine the tool again. "We aren't there yet – if you aren't ready to tell me you want this to be over."

"I do," she nodded and pulled at her hands in her begging. "I do, Billy. I want it to be over. I want to go home."

His smile grew and he let out a small laugh. "You aren't going home. So are you really ready for this to be over?"

She let herself fall back the inch or so she'd pulled herself up at that and cried. Cried to the point her felt her salvia growing thick and stringy – the snot collecting and bubbling at her nose. She wanted so badly for it to be over. But she wanted to go home. She didn't want to die. She was terrified of telling him to end it – but she knew it would go on until she did. She'd told him in those first hours to shoot her. He'd laughed it off. She wished he had. She didn't want to have to beg him for it now. She didn't want to have to go through this torture just to get to her end. She didn't know how much longer she could fight, though.

Olivia felt destroyed. She felt like a shadow of herself. She felt weak and defeated. He'd won. What more did he want? What more did he need?

"Do you really think you can go home now?" he put to her. "To your son?"

She nodded. "Yes. Please, let me go home to my baby."

He looked at her and pressed the soldering iron into her stomach and she again crumpled and shook. "Your son that you tied to the bed? Who you stripped down? Who you left alone? Battered? Scared? Violated?"

"He'll understand," she cried. "He'll forgive me."

"Forgive you?" Lewis said and finally pulled the iron away only to press down again on the opposite side of her navel. "Do you think anyone's even found him yet? Or is he still tied there? With his Daddy rotting on the floor?"

A sob shook Olivia at that. Whenever she tried to disassociate herself from what was happening her mind just ended up back in that bedroom. To binding her weeping son. To her husband's crumpled, lifeless body on the floor. To wondering if they were OK. If anyone had come to their aid yet? If anyone was even looking for her yet? Had Will's work noticed him missing? Had Noah's school seen him absent? Would either place even react if they had? Or reacted in a way that would've located her husband and child? No one at work would have reason to notice she was gone. Cragen had sent her home for two days. Had it been that long yet? She didn't have a relationship with Nick like she did Elliot. He wouldn't have called or texted to check in on her. He'd checked in on her before he left. She'd brushed off his offers of friendship. And, now Lewis was right, her little boy could still be tied to a bed watching his father's body set into rigor and begin its process of composition.

"And what if Will is alive?" Lewis added as the iron landed on her opposite hip and left its brand there too. "You think he's ever going to want to be with you again? When you look like this?" he asked and twisted the iron so hard she knew it had burnt through the skin. "He's never going to see you the same way again. He's not even going to be able to look at you."

Tears ran from her cheeks. "He's a good man," she said quietly. "He'll understand."

"Understand?" Lewis laughed at looked at her. "After what you brought into his house? Into his life? You're an obsessive bitch. A slut," he spat at her.

She just shook her head but she was starting to believe him. He'd said it so many times. And other parts of her had already considered some of what he'd said. How would Will be able to look at her? Would he blame her? How could they ever have a relationship again after this? … if he was still breathing. Thinking about it almost made her want to die more. Because she wasn't sure how she'd be able to get through this without Will – whether he was dead or he just couldn't handle it, the potential of his absence ached more badly than the brands Lewis was scarring her with. How could Will ever look her in the eye again? The better question might be how could see ever look him in the eye again? As much as she wanted to see him again – she didn't know if she could handle being near him. She felt so damaged, alone and ashamed.

"And work?" Lewis said. "You think you can ever go back there? Think they'll have you? You're damaged goods now, baby. All those years helping 'victims'," he gestured with his fingers and tossed the soldering iron to the side. "Now you're just one of them. A weak, submissive slut – groveling for her useless, pitiful life."

Olivia looked at the ceiling and then met his eyes. "Please …" she pressed again. "Please … Billy … Let me go home."

He smiled and shook his head. "Still not enough then yet?" he shrugged. "OK…"

He moved sitting up higher and reaching for his own fly. She diverted her eyes. She hated that position. She hated the view of an erect penis from that angle. It had been triggering before. Yet she almost thought maybe having a Sealview flashback might be better than this. Maybe it'd send her another burst of adrenaline to try to put up one last fight.

Lewis' hand flashed forward again and grabbed her chin and tugged it down. "Look," he ordered and she tried to keep her eyes where he wanted while unfocusing them to not see. It wasn't as hard as she might've thought. The tears were blurring her vision and her one else was swollen from a previous strike. Still her saw the movement and his pants shift as he released himself. "Are you ready for Communion now?"

Her mind riled and her tears streamed as she waited for it. Her consciousness shifted and her heart pounded. She felt the flood of everything her body had been through – all the hormones that it had been releasing on over-time – spread through her. To try to take her away – to somewhere else. She barely heard the pop and the shatter of glass. It was a warm spray hitting her face that finally brought her eyes focused – just in time to see Lewis' body slump forward and his weight fall lifelessly on top of her. Indistinguishable shouts and thuds echoed around her but she still could hardly hear them.

"Liv, Liv," seemed to echo off in the distance like it was on the wind in a far away valley. "Olivia."

She just closed her eyes – and listened to her heart and the hiss of her tired lungs. Weight heavy against her and a sticky warmth pooling around her neck and the top of her chest.

_**Well I'd hoped to have this story wrapped before the premiere. But this is what you get. Suppose it could be the end. Maybe it will be at this point. I had some stuff planned for after her rescue, though. So you might get another 3-5 chapters to wrap it up a bit more. They'll come over the next week or two. Enjoy the premiere tonight. Hope you enjoyed the AU take on it.**_


	33. Chapter 33

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

The wheels of the truck near squealed as the vehicle came to a scretching stop. It really had hardly come to a stop – Ted wasn't even sure Will had put on the brakes – before his seatbelt was off and the door as flying open and he was out of it.

Will hardly had a chance to get out – despite his rush – before the uni standing at the police barrier was walking towards him and holding out a hand.

"Sir, I need you to stop and get back in your vehicle. You can't be here," the officer said. His eyes, though, were more looking at the cruiser that had pulled up behind the pick-up.

It hadn't exactly been a high-speed chase across Long Island. Though, Will had still ignored the speed limits and had made near record time even with trying to listen to the radio and deal with the GPS that his father seemed clueless on how to use. He didn't care. He was determined to get out there as fast as possible. He'd been separated from his wife too long. He'd failed her – and now he was afraid of what he was going to find at this crime scene.

"That's my wife in there," Will said and near pushed past the officer – likely nearing landing himself into more hot water than he already was with the officers in the cruiser that had been 'accompanying' him en route. They'd eventually turned off their sirens and just trailed him. But they'd never diverted paths.

"Sir, I need you to get back in the car," the officer said again. "This is a police barricade. We have a situation going on down the road right now. The road is closed."

"The situation is that my wife was abducted by some psychopath," Will yelled at him and again moved like he was going to push through, but this time his father's hand landed heavily on his shoulder. Gripping at it in such a way that he knew to shut up for a moment.

"I'm Ted McTeague," his father said to the uni like his name still held weight. In some circles it did. In some circles it always would. "This is my son Will," Ted said and his hand gripped at his shoulder again. "My daughter-in-law – his wife – Olivia Benson, was abducted. We believe that's what you've got going on down the road. We'd really like an update on the status of the situation. We can get her Captain, Don Cragen, on the phone if that's necessary. So you can get someone out here to brief my son."

The uni spurttered a little bit but was saved by the voice of a man coming up behind him. "That won't be necessary," it said.

Will's eyes followed the sound and saw Cragen coming towards them. Even from whatever perch he was at, he must've seen or heard the hoopla at the barricade. More like the cops in the cruiser following them had likely radioed and let him know they'd arrived.

"Let them through," Cragen said.

The uni looked at the Captain for a moment but then moved and lifted the barrier to create a small gap for Will and his father to pass through. Will briefly met the Captain's eyes but then looked passed him. He was trying to see down the road. Trying to find his wife. Trying to see where she'd been held. Trying to determine what she'd been through. But all he could see for the moment were a lot of cops moving around and people in SWAT tactical gear. Crime Scene vans and he thought he could see EMT vehicles and a coroner's vehicle in the drive of a battered looking cottage. His breath caught at the site of the medical examiner's van. He felt his eyes glass and the found the Captain again.

"Did you find her?" he finally managed to push out.

"We've got her, Will," Cragen assured him and now it was his hand landing on his shoulder to give it a squeeze. "Com'on."

But even with that Will's lead foot suddenly felt like concrete boots and he couldn't make himself move. His mind was telling him to run to her – to find her, to hug her. But his eyes still could see those emergency vehicles and he became even more scared what he was going to find. He knew none of it – none of them, not her – were ever going to be the same again. Not ever.

"Is she alright?" he whispered. He knew it was the wrong word. He knew she wasn't alright. Even alive. She wasn't going to be alright.

"She's in a bit of shock right now," Cragen provided him. "The EMTs can brief you. But we're getting her into the hospital. Looks like she's got a broken wrist and some broken ribs. A concussion. Bruises, burns. She's going to need some stitches too. They're working on getting her patched up. Trying to make her more comfortable. They're taking good care of her down there. Com'on. I'll take you to her."

"But … but … she's OK?" Will asked.

He couldn't bring himself to say the words. To ask if she'd been raped. He couldn't stand to think about it. The blame he'd place on himself. The tears he'd cry for her. What he knew that would do to her – and what he didn't know it would do to her but knew he'd have to try to come to understand. He wasn't sure he wanted to understand. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want that to happen to his Olivia. When she knew all too well what it did to people. When she'd spent her career interacting with it. To the women impacted by it and the men who'd done it to them. And she'd already had to survive one sexual assault. But Will didn't know how she could've been gone so long and for it not to have happened. Not after what had happened in the bedroom. Not after what he'd heard Detective Rollins saying in the briefing. Not after those pictures he'd seen on the case board.

"We aren't sure, Will," Cragen said and gave him those dark sad eyes.

Will knew that there was pain and hurt and guilt there too. But he wasn't yet ready to think about what her squad – her captain was feeling about all of this. Right now he was still trying to figure out how his family – his wife and son – could get through this. How he could help them cope. Will wasn't sure he knew how to cope with this. He wasn't sure he was coping on his own. But he knew he couldn't fail Olivia – or Noah – in this moment.

"She's not that coherent right now. She's in shock. She's a little confused and disoriented after what she's been through," Cragen added.

"But … was she … dressed?" Will asked. He knew it still wasn't the word he should be using. But he still couldn't bring himself to say it.

"She was in a state of undress when we got her out of there," Cragen admitted and the hand came away from Will's shoulder and his eyes diverted momentarily to the ground. "She's got some burns and bruising. She seems to feel she wasn't raped – but again, she's disoriented right now. We've got CSU going over the scene looking for any evidence – and we'll do a rape kit on her when she get her to the hospital, if she agrees to it."

"She'll agree to it," Will said quietly.

"That's her choice, Will," Cragen added just as quietly. "Right now we need to get her stable and calm her down a bit – so she can make some good decision over the next several hours. OK?"

Will nodded and rubbed at his eyes unconsciously – wanting to bat away the tears before he got to her. But the movement only caused him to cringe as the heels of his hands butted against his swollen eye and bruised face. He dropped his hands away and provided a quiet, "Yeah" instead.

"OK then let's get you over to her," Cragen said and reached to tap his shoulder with a small nudge of encouragement.

"You want me to come with you, Son?" Ted asked. He'd been surprisingly quiet during his brief conversation with the Captain.

But Will shook his head. "No. Not yet," he said. He didn't think Liv would like that – his father seeing her weak and battered. Will didn't think he wanted his father to see his own flood of his emotion and his struggle to keep them in check either. He didn't want him there yet. Not yet.

The walk down the road with the Captain still seemed to take forever. Will felt like so many eyes were falling on them as they made their way down to one of the ambulances. But as much as he was trying to find see his wife, his eyes kept going to the medical examiner's bus.

"Is he dead?" he finally managed to choke out. He wanted him dead. But he hoped he suffered. He wanted that for that bastard too. He wanted to have the opportunity for a do-over where he got to beat him senseless. Where he got to beat him to a bloody pulp for what he'd done to his wife and his family.

"No," Cragen said flatly with no more information and this time grabbed his elbow and pulled him along.

They were almost to the bus before Cragen gave him a thin, sad smile and then retreated with the instruction to have someone radio him if they needed him. Otherwise, he'd see them at the hospital. Will nodded but still stood still for a moment before closing the gap and looking into the back of the ambulance.

An paramedic was caring for Liv – doing some initial stitches and bandaging and talking quietly to her. But his wife seemed almost non-responsive. She was staring blankly into the distances when the distance was no more than a few feet in front of her on the opposite wall of the ambulance. She looked so battered. Blood still caked to her face. She one eye bruised and swollen. A cracked and swollen lip. Her hair greasy and stringy with sweat and blood and God knew what else. She one arm was already in some sort of brace until they could get to the hospital and have it xrayed and set properly. Will could see that her shirt was slit open and what was left of the material was beyond dirty. She pants looked soiled. But all she had on to cover up any of it was a NYPD windbreaker that was sitting across her shoulders unsnapped and a blanket that was near falling down to her waist.

"Liv?" he offered quietly, trying to attract her attention. She clearly hadn't even sensed he was there. She was so wrapped up in her own head. Will was scared what and where her mind was in that moment.

Her head turned slowly towards him like it had taken quite awhile for her brain to register that someone was speaking to her and just exactly where that voice was coming from. Her far off eyes then seemed to take even longer to focus on him and then another several beats before they seemed to recognize him.

"Will?" she finally put to him sounding so confused.

"Yeah," he nodded. He knew his face didn't exactly show off his best features at the moment either. He might as well have been beaten beyond recognition. He probably wasn't exactly the face she wanted greeting her in that moment. But it was the best he could offer.

He looked at the paramedic for permission to get inside too and received a small nod before he awkwardly pulled himself up and in. His own broken bones and battered body protested against the movement. And, then, as he got onboard he wasn't sure where he was supposed to move to or sit. He wanted to sit next to her. To hug her. To touch her. To smell her. To feel her. But she didn't exactly look like she wanted any of those things. She looked so confused as she examined him.

"I thought … I thought you were dead," she finally sobbed out. Her shoulders shook and tears came down her face.

Will shook his head hard – harder than he meant to and harder than he should've with is own concussion. But even the thought of it hurt him. That she'd been thinking that and worrying about that while having to go through all of this. He stopped thinking about if he was supposed to sit down, if he was supposed to touch her, how he was supposed to comfort her. He found a spot next to her on the gurney, his arm finding its way around her shoulder that was shaking with silent sobs. He pressed a soft, brief kiss into her temple and wiped at his one good eye to again try to hide the glassing.

"I'm not," he assured her.


	34. Chapter 34

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

"Where's Will?" Olivia asked quietly.

She wasn't sure how long he'd been gone. But somehow it felt like an eternity. It was hard to tell, though. It was almost like she'd been sitting under a spotlight in a dark theater and that light was just now starting to come up and widen and fill the theater. She was starting to realize – see, feel – that more was there than just her. Other people were around here. Other things were happening around her.

She'd known Will had been there while it was just her under the spotlight. He'd been under it too. There had been others standing just outside of it. She thought Amanda had been there. But she wasn't sure. It felt like a blur. All she could remember was doctors and nurses – and they were all faceless, monotone voices asking her questions that she couldn't remember even responding to. Giving her information about what they were going to be doing – what they were doing – that she hadn't even been hearing. All she could feel was more pokes and prods. Swabs and sprays. Hot gels. Cold gels. Twinges of pain that her mind was recognizing and then barely registering. Lights shining in her eyes and other places – white light, black light, ultraviolet light. But it'd all just felt like colors falling over her – a flash of light in her eyes and then it was gone.

She remembered Will's hand. She remembered gripping it – crushing it. She vaguely remembered registering that he'd said he was stepping outside. She knew he'd be back. But it all felt like that comment – that might've been a conversation that she now couldn't piece together – had been so long ago.

"I think he went to find his Dad," Amanda commented back to her a little quietly but it was enough for Olivia to glance up from where she'd been sitting on the edge of the hospital bed examining her knees that the gown was just covering. She thought she knew the woman must've been standing there. She'd seen her – sensed her – in the light that was opening up in the theater. She must've known she was there – she'd asked a question. But, at the same time, she wasn't sure she realized who she was asking.

"Ted's here?" Olivia posed, examining the woman as she registered that.

"Yeah," Amanda agreed. It was a simple answer but there was something about the way she said it that Olivia knew it was supposed to be information that she already knew and it was concerning she didn't.

"Noah's not here?" she asked.

Amanda gave her head a small shake. "No. He's with your mother-in-law."

Olivia gave her head a small nod and looked down. "Good," she allowed. "He shouldn't be here." She paused in her examination of her knees as she processed that and then glanced at Amanda again. "Is he OK?"

She knew she should likely have more thoughts about that in the moment. But it was like she couldn't form them. An eerie part of her being was telling her she should feel some sort of panic in asking that. There was an uncomfortable sensetation as she thought the thought of if her son was OK but it was like her being couldn't form a more appopreiate response in that moment. It wasn't ready to. It was still closed in on itself.

"Yeah, he is," Amanda provided her.

Olivia knew it was another simple answer. She knew it wasn't telling her everything but she still accepted it.

"Good," she said.

"Will should likely be back soon," Amanda added.

Even to Olivia it sounded like forced conversation. The discomfort for her being in the room and not knowing what to say or do. Olivia didn't care enough to think about it – to hardly more than acknowledge there was the disconnect. If she was in a clearer state, she thought passing that she might she likely wouldn't like Amanda being there and would be uncomfortable with it. Right now, though, everything felt a little off and uncomfortable. She had a sudden ping of wondering how long – if ever and always – things would continue to feel off and uncomfortable.

"I think they were just trying to find you some clothes."

Olivia brought her eyes up to her again. "Clothes?"

"Ah …" Amanda seemed to consider that. "Your clothes were taken in with the evidence kit. They were looking for something for you to go home in."

Olivia let that settle for a moment as she processed it again in her mind that felt like it was slowly clicking like a pinwheel out of whack. Things weren't quite connecting and each time they did, it seemed to provide her with a little wallop that was sitting funny in her chest.

"Home?" she put back to the detective. The concept seemed so far away. She wondered how long she'd really been gone. She wondered what home could feel like now. Home. She'd often thought before that home was just where Will and Noah where. If she had them – it was home. She hoped it would still feel that way because she knew she could never go home again. Yet, she also knew that home in her husband and son wouldn't be the same either. She wouldn't be going home to it either.

"Not to make you feel like you're being pushed out of here," Rollins added quickly. "I mean, I don't think the doctors would mind observing you for a little longer if you don't feel up to leaving yet."

Olivia shook her head, though. "No," she said. "I just want to go home."

"Well, not home really," Amanda added and gave her a look. "The brownstone's a crime scene right now. Will and Noah have been staying at your in-laws. But the Captain said the department's working at getting a hotel room set up for you, if you want."

"No," Olivia said again. "I just want to go home. I want to see my son."

Amanda nodded. "Ah … the Cap may want to talk to you before you go. I think he's going to need you to come in tomorrow to debrief with some of the brass. I can get him for you?"

Olivia gave her head a small shake. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to see anyone. As the light grew and grew around her. She just wanted to go home. She didn't want people to see her like this. She didn't want to be in a place with so many people. She wanted her privacy. She wanted her Will and her son and to be home and away from all of it.

"Ah … OK …" Amanda allowed. "I guess, he can call you … or someone … later tonight and get it sorted out?"

Olivia thought she might hunch her shoulders in a shrug of acknowledge – of dismissal. She didn't want to go into work tomorrow and sort it out either. Her mind churned slowly again as she tried to recall what she'd said already. What she had recounted for them. What had been asked. What they had heard. What she even remembered and what she wanted to forget.

She didn't have to react, though. That was likely best because she thought she was more likely to have a non-reaction. She wasn't sure her body could react anymore in that moment. It could feel but everything it was feeling felt like a betrayal.

"It OK for me to come back in?" came Will's voice from behind the curtain.

"Yes," Olivia said without much firmness. She realized that she'd said it so quietly she wasn't even sure if he'd heard it. But then the curtain pulled back and he appeared – only for him to reach and pull the flimsy material back into place.

As he turned to her and gave her a thin smile, it seemed to set in for the first time just how awful his face looked. The bruising and swelling had him nearly unrecognizable. She knew he must be badly hurt – and hurting. But her mind wasn't ready to process all of that yet. For the moment all she knew and cared about was that he was alive and that he was there. Thinking about the rest was too much.

He held out a small pile of folded clothing with a pair of flip-flops slippers sitting on top. She lifted her good arm – the one that wasn't in a sling and cast – but it still made her ribs scream in protest. Still, she managed to retrieve the clothes and set them on her lap and look at them.

The grey of the oversize sweats almost added to the depression of the whole situation – like it was tapping into the agongy and trying to rub it in her face a little bit more. She lifted the pants away and gazed at the zip-hoodie. Light blue. The color of hospital scrubs. Yet, a fleeting thought passed through her mind wondering if Will had to turn on the McTeague charm to get her that rather than just the well-worn and well-washed tshirt in the pile too. She doubted the charm worked quite as well with is face as it was. It was likely more pity that had garnered him the sweater for her to wear out of the hospital.

She let out a small sigh as she looked at the pair of 'underwear' that had been provided. It was little more than shaped gauze with an elastic. It was barely worth wearing. But she knew the sweats would be so big they'd hardly be staying at her waist no matter how tight she was able to pull the tie with her bum wrist. She better have something on underneath or else she'd be exposed to the world again. Yet just the sight of them made her feel that exposure as well. The nakedness and vulenerablilty. So many people looking and seeing and wondering. But at the same time she just wanted to crawl into the over-sized loaners and cover her body. To disappear into the depths of the material. To hide.

"I'll give you some privacy," Amanda nodded and headed out of the curtains.

Will's head tracked her before looking back to Olivia. He was just standing there – in front of her – like he was lost.

"Do you want some help?" he finally asked, pulling her out of the somber examination of the clothing provisions.

"No," Olivia said but still didn't move.

She could feel him looking at her more. "I mean … I could go and get a nurse, if you want," he offered. "Or ask Amanda to come back in and help?"

"No," she said again.

Will nodded. She could feel it without looking at him. She was starting to feel his sadness more. His concern. And it scared her. She couldn't deal with it yet. Maybe the spotlight was better. She wasn't ready to see or feel the rest yet. She didn't like the feeling of the lights coming up.

"Ah … well … I can just wait outside then," he offered. "If you want …"

"No," she said again, this time a little more quickly. She brought her eyes up to meet his. "Just …" she sighed, "… turn around. Don't go."

She couldn't stand the thought of being left alone in that room. Of just being left alone. But she didn't want to be touched. She didn't want more doctors or nurses proding her. She didn't want people from work looking at her in their efforts to help. She didn't want Will to see her like that either. She didn't want to see herself like that.

"OK," he said with the squinted, bruised look that seemed to have creased his face into just sadness. But he turned and continued to stand there. She could see him fidgeting.

Still, after watching his back for several moments, she managed to force herself to rise from the bed. She set the clothes on the bed and looked at them in trying to decide how to approach dressing herself. She went to move to undo the tie on neck of the hospital gown but her one arm was heavy with the brace and sling. The other jolted in protest against her fractured and broken ribs and she let out a noise.

"Are you OK?" Will asked.

"It's fine," she said.

It was quiet for a moment. She knew they were both aware of her word choice. It hadn't answered her question – and for whatever question it had answered, it was undoubtedly a lie. But she moved to try again and again flailed, let out a small involuntary grunt, and dropped her arm.

"Let me help," she heard Will say and felt him move. Him turning towards her back that was towards him.

Olivia hung her shoulders and head. She looked at that pile of depressing loaner hospital clothes again. An outfit so similar to ones that she'd had to retrieve for rape victims so many times in the past. Now it'd be what she wore walking out of there. To the trained eye, it was like a flashing neon sign of what had happened, what she'd been through. Though, most of the eyes that would fall on her as they left likely already had some inkling – where privy to some information – as to what she'd endured.

"I don't want you to look at me," she admitted quietly.

"I won't look," he said with a clear sincerity and promise in his voice.

She couldn't stand the thought of him seeing. She didn't want to see. She knew what hurt. She had flashes of what Lewis had done. She had other flashes of the areas the doctors and nurses had fiddled at – stitching, mending, patching, disinfecting. She knew she was covered head to toe in evidence. The wipe down she'd received wasn't enough. She wanted to shower and wash it all away. But seeing her husband and his puffy face and his pained movements made her wonder just how awful she really did look? How much physical damage had really been done to her? What had Will already seen in the examine room? What had Rollins seen? What had Will seen when he came in while she was still tied to the bed? She wanted to wash it from all of their minds and she wanted to not have to see it with her own eyes yet. She didn't want to see it in his eyes either.

"Turn around," he told her gently. "Just sit on the bed. We'll get the pants on first."

She let out another small sigh but listened and turned, placing her rear back on the thin mattress. She couldn't look at him, though, and picked a piece of flooring to focus her eyes.

Will rustled at the pile of clothing and pulled the underwear garment from the pile before crouching down in front of her. He let out his own groan with the movement and she looked at him. She could see a wince through the bruising.

"You're hurt," she stated.

He just glanced up at her and gave a half shrug. His eyes kept hers, though, while her feet found the holes and he shimmed them up to her knees for her before reaching and grabbing the pants and doing the same movement.

"Do you want the socks?" he asked.

"No," Olivia told him quietly. He was hurting. She could see a tremble in him just being crouched in that position. She didn't need socks to go home.

He stood up straight and again the sound of pain hissed out of his lungs. But she didn't comment this time and stood too. She tried to use her free hand to pull the clothing up the rest of the way to her waist but only the one side moved along with her.

Will again kept her eyes and reached and pulled the underwear and sweats up for her – under the hospital gown. He looked at her the whole time but she found herself looking more at his shoulder and beyond. She couldn't share the line sight with him. His hands a little clumsily worked and tried to pull the tie tight. She let out a small breath as the material bunched and rubbed across some of the burns.

"Too tight," she said.

"Sorry," he allowed and stopped his movement, letting the thread loosen a bit and just tied in place where it was at. It might just barely stay up.

"OK," Will said. "Umm … is it OK if I take the sling off so we can get on the shirts?"

"Yeah," she allowed even more quietly and reached her arm and bent her head to do it on her own. But he again moved and helped. As it came away, he looked at her again – her eyes.

"OK … the gown?" he said but it came out as more of a question.

"Don't look," Olivia told him again.

"I'm just looking at you, Liv," he said, "and the clothes. Nothing else. I promise."

She let out a slow breath. Her heart was pounding. She felt such anxiety in the moment as they tried to change her. She just wanted for it to be over. To be clothed and to go home. But she recognized the faster she let him help – the sooner that could happen. It wasn't making it any easier, though. It was taking a lot of her being to remind herself she wasn't in danger and she could trust Will and that nothing was going to happen. She was safe. Even if his eyes wandered – she was safe.

It felt like time moved slowly as he undid the ties on the back of the gown and helped her bring the material down her arms. She felt so naked in those moments it took to thread the sleeve of the tshirt up on the one and over her neck and screaming in pain down the other as she moved against her fractures. But through it all she could feel his eyes with hers or just tracking the clothing. He wasn't putting her under a microscope as much as she felt like she was under one.

He finally fiddled with the zipper on the hoodie and brought it part way up for her. Normally that would've been fine by her – but not that day, and she reached and struggled with it to pull it all the way up to her neck, while he dropped the slippers to the floor for her feet to find.

"Ready?" he asked quietly, as she wriggled her toes in and again stood examining her feet. It looked and felt so strange to be in slippers and about to walk out the hospital door. But everything looked and felt so strange in that moment. She almost felt like she wasn't really there. Still.

"Who's out there?" she asked.

Will let out a sigh and looked at the curtain and considered it.

"Dad," he said. "Your Captain is around. I guess Amanda and Amaro are probably still around too."

She nodded. She didn't really want to see them but she didn't know what other choice she had. They weren't likely going to leave until after she did.

"OK," she agreed. "Let's go."

Will returned the nod and started to move but she found herself reaching out and grabbing his hand – again gripping it like a vice, as she had when they arrived at the hospital and she began the battery of tests and exams by the medical staff. He turned and gave her a small look but then just returned a small squeeze to her white knuckles.

He pulled up the curtain and she forced herself to look out. No one was standing immediately outside the space but they were all scattered around nearby and with the sound of the links pulling back, they all turned to look at her. She could see the creases on their faces. Their own sadness and concern and questions. The Captain. Nick. Rollins. Fin and Munch. There were other unis and doctors and nurses too. But it all just looked like a sea of faces with the same underlying question: "Is she OK?"

She didn't know the answer. Not yet. She wasn't sure if and when she would.

She startled as a hand fell onto the elbow in the sling and she jerked away and looked. It was Ted. He looked nearly as startled as her by her violent movement. It wasn't as violent as it could've been. For a moment she'd felt her body tense and thought her arms were about ready to fly up and defend herself but somehow the weakness, fatigue and fear had overpowered her and instead she'd just jerked with vengeance.

"Sorry," Ted offered.

Olivia looked at him bleary eyed and then looked down. "I just don't anyone to touch me right now," she said in a whispered apology.

"OK, then," Ted agreed but his voice didn't sound like his own. Not the way she remembered her father-in-law sounding. "Let's get you home then." He just held out his arm in a pointed direction of the route to the door.

Her feet felt like cinder blocks, though, and didn't move. Not until Will's hand gave the smallest tug to hers and she looked at him. Her eyes had been unfocused as they scanned the faces of her squad, silently wishing they'd stop looking back.

"Com'on, Liv," he said. "Let's go to Mom and Dad's."

"Ah, yeah," she agreed finally pulling herself away from the Captain's sad, deep eyes that were examining her. "Yeah. That'd be best."


	35. Chapter 35

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

She could feel Will's eyes on her again as Ted turned down the family's street. She should've asked that Will drive – though she wasn't sure he could with what his depth perception must be at the moment with the swollen shut eye and what she'd basically decided in some quiet reflection on the drive out to Staten Island, must be his own fractured ribs. But having taken the passenger seat and let Will crawl into the back of the pick-up truck had meant that she'd felt his eyes on the back of her head the entire trip to his parents' house.

She didn't want to feel that steady stare. It felt so uncomfortable. She felt so watched and observed. She knew that Will was a watcher – an observer. He always had been – and it taken her long enough to become comfortable under his gaze. But after Lewis, she wasn't sure she could endure that examination. There were already so many eyes on her. She knew behind everyone the person was wondering if she was OK. If she was going to be OK. She didn't like to think about Will thinking that. But she wasn't ready to talk to him about it – any of it – yet. She was barely just starting to form her own thoughts – and her body and mind seemed to just want to go to numb rather than begin to process any of it. She thought she was OK with that for the moment, though. She didn't have it in her to process it – yet it seemed like little glimpses of it kept popping in front of her own eyes, popping up in her own mind. It was already haunting her. She didn't know when it would stop.

Her heart had started pounding as they crossed the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. It was echoing in her ears and beating against her chest in a way that felt too familiar to all the time in the car with Lewis. In the trunk. In the backseat on the floor. Gagged and bounded and out of control. Not knowing where she was going. Right now she did know where she was going, though. To see her son. And that just made her heart race even more.

She wanted so badly to see him. To throw her arms around him. To hold him tight to her. To smell that scent that she knew as her child. To feel his skin and hair. To feel his breath. To know he was OK. But she couldn't fool herself. He wasn't OK. No matter how many times people assured her that he was physically OK – she knew that mentally and emotionally would be a different story. There would be damage that would take years – more likely a lifetime – to help him through. And, it was her fault. She'd brought her work home. She'd let it into her house. And, part of her wondered if she'd even be able to look at him. The shame she felt in the failure she'd brought into his life. The devastating failure. Would he even want to look at her or see her or hug her when she'd failed him so badly?

But her heart skipped a beat as they pulled closer to Ted and May's house. Her little boy was sitting on the steps of the front porch. His elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands as he gazed down the road waiting to spot a glimpse of his grandfather's truck. She knew Will had called home after they were settled in the vehicle and on the way. Her mind had vaguely registered him talking in hushed tones in the backseat. But to see her little boy sitting there and waiting for them just sent her body reeling. She wanted out of that vehicle almost as much as she'd wanted out of that car Lewis had had her in. Her hands were going for the seatbelt before Ted had even pulled into the driveway. And, she wasn't the only one reeling. She'd seen how Noah's face had lit up as he saw the pick-up and she'd watched as he jumped to his feet and came dashing down the front lawn and onto the drive – to the point that Ted had rolled down the window and was telling him he needed to move, that he shouldn't run in front of moving vehicles.

Neither her nor Noah seemed to care. She wasn't even sure she was really hearing him. She knew that Will was saying something to her too. Likely telling her to be careful of her wrist, of her ribs, of her head – to wait for the car to come to a complete stop, that he'd help her out of the seat and up the drive … like she was an invalid. She didn't need help. Not then. Not in that moment. All she needed as her son. Ted didn't have the parking brake on – she knew it – but she was out. The door open, her slippered feet on the ground and she was moving around the front of the vehicle when Noah's body slammed into hers. It was an impact that likely hurt – but right then what it really felt like was the first real thing she thought she'd felt since that shot had fired and the glass had shattered and the weight of Lewis' body had slumped on top of her.

Noah's arms wrapped around his waist and his pointy chin and little face buried themselves against her battered, cut, bruised and burned abdomen. But she barely reacted to the pain. Her arms instead held him tighter against her.

"Mommy," he shuttered into her.

"Oh, sweets," she muttered and then involuntarily sucked back a sobbed that just rattled her harder. Her shoulder shock and her chest heaved and then the tears streamed. "I'm so sorry," she cried.

Noah looked up at her with big watery eyes. Eyes that looked so different from the little boy she'd known – the little boy she'd raised, the little boy she'd already watched go through so much. So different from the defiant little boy who was tasking himself to take on the 'bad man' those days ago in their bedroom. He was hurt. He was broken too.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," he said. "I'm sorry. I wasn't good enough. The bad man took you. I wasn't good enough."

She shook her head and the tears just streamed harder. She felt her knees give out. She wasn't sure if her mind had made that decision or if her body just couldn't hold her weight after hearing her child apologize to her for something that was so beyond his control. Something that she'd brought on him – not that he'd brought on her. But somehow her body managed to find it's way to the ground without further injury and she sat, pulling her boy into her lap and hugging him so tight and kissing him – his hair, his cheek, his temple. Rocking him while he sobbed along with her.

"It's not your fault, sweets. You were so, so brave. You're so, so brave. I'm so sorry," she just kept repeating like a record player stuck and skipping. "So brave."

He too was stuck in a loop. "I'm sorry, Mommy. I'm sorry."

She felt Ted walk by, as the truck finally finished rumbling, though she could still feel the heat of the vehicle in their position on the driveway just in front of it. The headlights still shown on them – placing them again in the spotlight – as the car spooled down and shut off. She glanced at his feet as he walked by. She still felt so exposed – like an ant there on the drive, like someone might still jump out and take his heavy-footed boot and quash her. But instead, he walked on. She followed the feet, still rocking her little boy as hot tears streamed down both of their faces and their bodies shuttered to keep up with this trauma of reunion and the release of so much anxiety and stress about never seeing a person so important to them again.

Ted's boots just followed up the drive to the porch and it was only then that she allowed her blurry eyes to rise and see that Will's mother was standing on the porch too. Staying back – and dabbing at her own eyes, while Ted engulfed her in his own hug. She could see the slight shudder between them both – in their backs and shoulders. But her mind couldn't process if it was tears or quiet talking. The image, though, just made her own shoulders shake more.

She looked back down to her little boy and placed another kiss on the crown of his head. Her tried to breath in – taking in that scent, in that one spot – that she'd got to smell since he was a baby, a newborn, in her arms. He was in her arms again now – and she didn't know how she could ever let go. She didn't think she could. They might be forever sitting in the driveway with her holding him.

Still, she glanced up again as she felt movement next to her and saw her own husband looking down on them with tears. He'd hidden the tears from her so far. But she also hadn't yet been able to cry. She hadn't been able to think. Now her mind felt like it was moving too fast – but in slow motion. Stuck on the thought of Noah. He was OK – but he wasn't. She knew that. It made her choke back a sob again.

Will did the same and then crouched down next to him. She gave him a sad look. She'd failed them both so badly. She'd failed herself. She'd failed so many people. So many people had died and been hurt and been assaulted and had been raped at Lewis' hands because of her. Because of her job – and because of her not doing her job well. It pained to even think about – to even begin to form that initial thought process, and her face creased even sadder as her lips trembled and she tried to find something to say to him. She didn't have to, though. He let out another ragged breath with his own sob that somehow seemed to summarize it without the words and his arm again found its way around her shoulder. She'd thought she might not be able to, but she let herself lean into him. Taking her and Noah and crushing against his chest as they all shook together.

"Shh, shh," she tried – trying to calm them both but trying to calm herself too. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm so glad you're OK. You're both OK. I'm so glad, Noah. So, so glad. I'm sorry that it happened. I'm so, so sorry."

"You're OK, Mommy?" Noah asked and looked up at her again with those eyes and dripping nose and stringy mouth.

Her face creased into even more sadness. She felt her body telling her to shake her head – to say no. But instead her shoulders again shook as she tried to hold in another sob.

"I'm here, Noah," she managed to tell him. "Mommy's here." And she pulled him to her tighter and let her weight press against Will more as his hand restlessly gripped at her shaking shoulder.


	36. Chapter 36

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Will stood quietly at the crack in the half-opened door. He didn't want to startle her or upset her by being there, but he also couldn't pull his eyes away. Yet, somehow watching was making his heartbreak a little bit more.

His wife's back was to him but he could part of her face unobstructed in the mirror and he'd watched how her lips trembled with held back tears and how her face creased more and more into a frown that he'd not quite like anything he'd ever seen on her face before in all the years of knowing her. She was examining herself with a kind of disgust that made Will want to start crying again too. But it was then the scissors came up and he watched as she cut off a chunk of her long, soft, beautiful hair. Followed by another and another. Her face both angrier as she snipped each strand until the anger turned to disgust again and then to sadness. It was then, as she pushed her hands through what was left, and looked like she was about to shed her own tears that she must've caught a glimpse of him in the reflection.

She turned a looked at him. Even with the glassiness to her eyes, they still looked so empty and dead that it scared him more. He was having trouble seeing his wife. He was having trouble finding her. He knew she was hiding from him on some level and he wondered if she'd ever let him find her or if they'd just entered a lifelong game of hide-and-seek. His Olivia might be hidden in some closet or behind some curtain forever now. He wasn't sure she'd ever be ready to come out – no matter how many times he called for her. He wasn't even sure if she could really exist anymore – or if she'd slipped out the door while his eyes were closed. Gone. But he wasn't sure how to deal with the new reality – the new rules in the game. He just wanted to make it better. Easier.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked flatly.

He pushed the door the rest of the way open and shrugged. He didn't know what to say. He knew she was likely upset he was there. Angry even. But he also didn't think she was yet in a spot she was in a position to feel much of anything. There was an emptiness to how she posed the question and even larger blankness to how she was looking at him.

"A while," he admitted and continued to examine her.

He could tell from looking at her hair while with her in the ambulance that part of it had been already cut off. Other areas were singed and burnt. It was a small preview of what she'd been through. He'd caught other glimpses and words while the paramedics attended to her in the ambulance and the doctors and nurses attended to her at the hospital. He'd heard muttering and whispering among the law enforcement officers milling around, some collecting evidence that had been collected from his wife's clothes and body. But few people had really said anything to him about what she'd been through yet. He was being forced to draw his own conclusions. A doctor had talked at him. He couldn't remember a word that had been said. A nurse had spoken quietly to them and all he could hear now was the sound of her voice. He knew Liv's captain had given him some glimpse of information but all he'd heard was that his wife was alive and she was coming home. Liv hadn't said anything to him yet. He wasn't sure when she would and he wasn't sure how to ask – or when he should.

"We could've taken you somewhere to get that done," he provided her instead.

He thought they'd likely still be going somewhere … eventually. The locks that were left were hanging longer on one side than the other and with looking at her from behind, he'd seen the back of her hair was a ragged and pointed mess. It wasn't even. It wasn't layered. It wasn't styled. At all.

It was slightly jarring to look at her like that. Her appearance with the cuts and bruises on her face and arms (even though they were now covered) had been jarring enough. But this was her hair. He'd seen Olivia with short hair before. Far shorter than what she was sporting at the moment. But this was different. This wasn't her deciding to try a new style. It wasn't her taking an afternoon at a hairdresser's. This was a purposeful change. One that she'd clearly felt in her stupor that was urgent and necessary.

It was strange to see it gone. He'd liked her with short her. Really the Olivia he'd fallen in love with had had that short bob when she'd moved in next door to him. That was still the Olivia that he saw in his mind's eye – even now, he hoped always. No matter what changes either of them had been through. But he'd also known she'd made just as purposeful and conscious decision to grow her hair out. That she'd decided as Noah passed the age of grabbing and pulling at her hair – that she'd moved from Chelsea, that she was a mother, that she was a middle-aged woman. She'd wanted to have long hair. Longer than what she'd had it for much of her law enforcement career. And, he'd known she liked it. That she liked styling it and curling it and giving it highlights. That with everything else going on in their lives – it had helped her feel beautiful and attractive and more like a woman in some ways. And, he'd grown to like it – love it even – too. He had just as many images of Olivia seared into his mind that included his wife with her long, bouncy locks as he did of that first image of her in the hallway with the short crop and the crossed-arm attitude. But now her appearance had changed just as suddenly as everything else in their life had taken a turn in that one moment – that one evening.

"I needed to do it now," she told him quietly and looked down, seeming to realize for the first time the chucks of hair that had collected on the ground.

Will just nodded. He again wasn't sure what to say. He knew she needed to do it now. Or at least that she felt that way. He didn't necessarily blame her. But he wasn't sure that it made it any easier. He knew that when she went back downstairs now, too, that all eyes would land on her even more. He hoped that no one would make a big deal out of it. He hoped that no one would even comment on it. Noah likely would.

"Noah's looking for you," he said. "You've been up here a while."

She'd been so retreated since they'd come into the house. It had been awkward in a way. No one really knew what to say. Or even what they were allowed to say. It felt like they were all walking on eggshells. He could feel that Olivia felt the same way. He wondered how long that would last too. How long it would take before they could all interact as normally as they ever did when they were at his parents'. And, if they couldn't interact with that strained normalcy they had at his parents' how would they be able to interact when they were on their own? When would they be on their own? That was another question.

So instead of talk, they'd all mostly just sat in his parents' living room. On the couch. The same couch that he and Noah had sat on gazing out the window on that endless night waiting for word. It almost didn't feel right to be sitting there. Noah sat with his mother. Will sat down from her. His father sat across from them. And, his mother went and puttered with hot drinks and snacks in the kitchen. Setting them out in the living room until they grew cold after going untouched. Olivia had finally just said she was going upstairs for a few minutes to use the bathroom. He'd offered to help her up the stairs but she'd declined. So instead they all just still sat in the bathroom, now looking at the stairs – and occasionally the ceiling as she moved around on the upper level – waiting for her to return. When she hadn't, Will had finally taken it upon himself to check on her.

He'd been trying to give her space. Letting her take a break from them. Half-ways hoping that maybe she'd decided to lay down and had drifted to sleep. But that hadn't been the case. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he'd interrupted her. How much space was he supposed to give her? How alone did she want to be? He wasn't sure.

"I'll be down soon," she told him.

He gave her a thin, sad smile that wasn't much of a smile. "OK," he allowed and then looked at her. "Your captain called," he told her. "We need to get you in for some sort of debrief tomorrow."

She looked like that registered and she returned a small nod. "OK," she agreed but there was no conviction behind it. "Just … arrange it. Let me know."

Will didn't think it would matter if he let her know. He wasn't sure it would register – and he thought he was about as enthusiastic as her about the prospect of having to take her into the precinct to be grilled about what had happened. It had been bad enough while Amanda had been in there taking a rather fractured statement from her. He didn't want his wife to have to think about it or deal with it. He wasn't sure he was ready to hear it. Though, he knew he'd never be ready – really. And, the whole legal process that this all had just set in motion intimidated him to the point that even letting his mind drift in that direction stirred enough in him for him to shutdown and send his mind swirling some other way. He wasn't ready to deal with any of that yet either. Dealing with the immediate present felt overwhelming enough.

He allowed a small nod and eyed her for a moment and then sighed.

"I can clean up," he said. "You should go and spend time with Noah … if you're up to it."

She gave him a weak smile. "Yeah. Thank you," she said. With a shaky hand, she set the scissors on the counter and lightly passed him.

He watched as she moved slowly towards the stairs. He could near feel her take her own deep breath and long exhale as she gripped the railing with her good hand and began to make her way back down. Something about it made him said. The amount of effort that it was taking both of them. The amount of effort it was going to take for a long time. But at least she was there to make the effort.

He turned back to the hair on the ground and letting out a muffled grunt, he willed his body to lower itself to his knees and began to pick up the pieces of his former wife – tossing them in the trash.


	37. Chapter 37

**Title: Her Negotiation**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: Law & Order: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house. **

Olivia stroked at the tousled hair of her son. He seemed so small lying on his stomach in the bed between her and Will. She knew in the past few days he'd grown up more than she wanted to admit – more than she even wanted to think about. He'd be far more grown-up now than she had already felt. Growing up too quickly. The last bit of his childhood might be forever gone now, she feared.

She was almost surprised that he was able to sleep. She wasn't sure she'd be able to. Even with the sedatives that had been made available to her, she wasn't sure she could make herself take them to get that rest. Closing her eyes just seemed too scary. She didn't want to think about what might be lurking beneath her consciousness waiting to claw its way out and rattle her in new ways. But she was glad Noah could sleep. She knew that his little body – his mind – was likely exhausted from the ordeal. He needed his rest. They all did.

She looked across Noah at Will. He was laying on his side. Though, she wasn't sure that it was his good one (if he even had a good one at the moment), with the pain that seemed to be creased across his brow. But she supposed that could just be pain and not specific to any of the injuries he'd sustained at the hands … feet, fists and knees … of Lewis.

Even with his one eye swollen shut, though, he still seemed to be examining her. That endless examination that Will did of her. Part of her wanted to know what he was thinking. But so many other parts of her knew she couldn't handle whatever he was thinking. She wondered if he was really forming coherent thoughts yet, either. She felt so scattered. Yet, at the same time, she didn't want to let her mind stay set on a single thought for too long. She wondered if he felt the same way. Maybe his mind wasn't yet still either. She knew he was concussed too.

Knowing he'd sustained a concussion somehow seemed worse if she dwelled on it too long. Will had been concussed before. It must be a bad one he'd sustained this time from the way his head and neck had snapped back as Lewis' boot connected with his face. She knew he must've taken pummels to his head and face prior to that impact too. But that image of his head snapping wasn't something she could dwell on for long right now. It made her heart beat faster and her chest tighten in a different way – even though he was laying right there across from her. A few feet away. And very much alive. Yet, she still wondered what that impact might've done to his head. His beautiful mind. To a man who made his living off of critical, insightful, intelligent, mathematical thinking that she couldn't understand even when she wasn't concussed. She hoped he wasn't hurt. But she knew he was. In so many ways.

She only had to look at his one good eye to see the hurt. His beautiful eyes, that usual danced at her, looked so sad and so dark. His pupil looked enlarged and the usual sparkling grey was such a color of dark green that she thought she might even venture to say they'd gone hazel. Something about that change in the coloring only made that ever-present lump in her throat grow a bit bigger and harder to swallow.

She wondered what would become of her family? What had become of her family? They were broken. So broken. And it felt so much like her fault. But that was yet another thought she couldn't bring her mind to settle on for too long. It was just too much.

She gave Will a thin smile from where she was. She knew it wasn't much of a smile. She wasn't sure what it was. Somehow it hurt even trying to offer it. Yet he returned the same thin-lipped grimace to her. It gave her a more real impression of what she'd presented him. Not a smile. A wince.

"It's going to be OK, you know," he offered.

It was his usual saying. Something he'd told her so many times for as long as she'd known him. While they navigated their relationship. While she dealt with bad cases at work. While Noah was sick. While she recovered from her shooting. In so many other instances in their daily life when she'd experience frustration or sadness or anger or anxiety. Yet, right now, he hadn't seemed to say his phrase with his usual conviction. He hadn't moved to add his follow up line, "It will all be OK in the end. If it's not OK, it's not the end." She didn't want to think about how far away the end might be, if everything had to be OK to get to it. That all seemed so very far away.

He seemed far way too right now. He was only a few feet. Just Noah's sleep heavy body separated them. Yet, he still felt distant. But at the same time, she thought it might just be the right distance. She didn't want to be left alone. She wanted to know where he was. She wanted to know where her son was. She wasn't sure when she'd be ready to be out of the same room as them for more than a few minutes at a time. Still, she wasn't ready to be touched.

She'd only let Noah truly touch her – truly hug her so far. Will had gripped her shoulder. He'd kissed her temple. He'd touched her arm and her hand. But he hadn't tried to engulf her in one of his embraces yet. She thought that was best. Part of her wanted to feel his arms around her. That safety and comfort that she'd grown to love in her daily life. Part of her wanted to take in his scent and know he was there – confirm his life and his presence and that he was truly OK. Yet, she was still scared that the weight of that touch might feel more like constrain. It might not feel like comfort or love or her Will. It might instead bring a rush of memories that she was barely holding back. Thoughts and feelings that were pushing against flood gates that she wasn't sure how long she could keep in and that she was terrified about when and how they would start coming out. The little drips that were splashing over the dam were already wrecking havoc on her body, her mind. So she'd settled for one of Will's hoodies. The comfort of its soft material engulfing her. His scent still lingering in the cotton. It'd do for now. But how long would that now last?

"You're going to be OK, you know," he added and seemed to look at her a bit harder through that darkened eye.

"Am I?" she asked.

_**OK folks, that's where I had intended to end this story when I had hoped to have it completed before the season premiere. Clearly I didn't reach that target. At this point, I'm not sure if I'm going to continue the story beyond here or now. I have had several requests to continue on with it. I have many thoughts and ideas on how to continue and various scenes to explore in the family's recover and where to end the story. So, give me some feedback by either review/comment or PM and let me know if you really do want to see this story continued or not. **_

_**Please keep in mind that if you are a fan of my other stories, continuing this story would likely take away from any time I might spend working on chapters for other stories. For example, I had intended to start focusing on Rollercoaster after I finished up Hello, Goodbye (which, believe it or now, its end is now in sight. Though, on a side note on that, there is the possibility of a sequel of it, also due to popular request). So, if I did continue on this story, it does mean that continuing on Rollercoaster would likely be put on the back burner and a possible sequel to Hello, Goodbye would be delayed. **_

_**Anyways, let me know your thoughts about what you guys, as readers, want/prefer. And, I'll take it all under consideration as I decide if I want to continue this. I do have the next several chapters mapped out for if I did. But here is a fairly logical conclusion - and the originally planned one.**_


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